The Isle of Drear
by God's Muse
Summary: A/U. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny never knew the horror, suspense, or mystery they'd find embarking on their 6th year at Hogwarts. They couldn't know that the Hogwarts Express would be attacked before term even started. And how could they guess that by Halloween, Voldemort would try and capture Ron and Hermione far too many times to count. But why? And does he succeed?
1. Prelude to the Capture

**AUTHOR'S ADDRESS: **

**Welcome, my dears, to another year at Hogwarts! In it you will find danger, intrigue, mystery, romance, drama, and I'll also toss in a bone for you called humor. This story will be 50 chapters long, it is already written (with a few tweaks here and there as I post), and my plan is to upload it all by (new date, I know, I KNOW it keeps changing, BUT I promise I make this story loads better each time I post with these new scenes!) Fall 2020. Because this story is a beast. A huge, freaking BEAST. And it needs more time if I'm going to do this right and not just half-ass it till the end.**

**This is a stand-alone fic, but also features one or two original side characters from Whydoyouneedtoknow's "Living with Danger" HP fanfic series to make it a tad more interesting. So settle down, open up your ears, and I will tell of what you've longed to hear...**

**(Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, the universe, the settings, or the little plot bunnies hopping around. They all belong to You-Know-Who, who has simply granted us freedom to play the Wonderful Wizarding World of Harry Potter.)**

**Cheers!**

**~ Hestia Hesperus~**

* * *

**PRELUDE TO THE CAPTURE**

Lord Voldemort stroked Nagini's head as he looked out the castle turret of his domain. The sky was black, the clouds pregnant with rain, and the wind whipped the salty sea air around the bare high death-defying cliffs in the North Sea, creating a howl of dismayed rage.

Yes…his new headquarters fit him nicely.

It was far from prying wizarding eyes, and conveniently Unplottable. The only way in and out past the anti-Apparition wards was through touch of the Dark Mark, which prevented any unwanted Ministry or Order members from even trying. But that alone was not his reason for being here.

This place had always been special to him. Ever since he found the markings left by Salazar Slytherin in the hallowed Chamber of Secrets. Ever since he decided to accomplish what the greatest wizard before him had done.

And this was the place rumored to hold the greatest of those magical objects. Even now his Death Eaters had been given orders to search the land about for any sign of the missing weapon.

Ah…the Founders' Gifts. Objects he had been searching for many years to turn into his four final Horcruxes—Gryffindor's sword, Hufflepuff's goblet, Ravenclaw's diadem, and, of course, Slytherin's locket.

He himself was in the possession of one, and had it safely locked away in a magical basin in a secret cave. Another was as protected from him as it could be—that fool of an old man made sure he couldn't get to it, and guarded it in his own office at the school. The last two were lost to the world and being hunted down by his servants.

And the last was, of course...here.

But he had to secure them. It was vital. His own immortality depended on it. Which brought him to his greatest triumph—his Horcruxes.

"Yes, my pet," he said to Nagini, who nestled her head in his neck. "We need to make more, don't we? After all, I will only be at my strongest with my soul split into seven."

As if the fates weren't cruel enough to him, he had only been able to make three Horcruxes before he…fell. First, of course, was his own diary that he'd made with the death of that Mudblood girl. The next was his family's ring, said to have belonged to the great Slytherin himself, which he had turned into a Horcrux with his filthy Muggle father and grandparents. He had hoped to make one more soon after, but the only objects that would do were the oldest and most powerful—the Founders' gifts. Nothing else would work. And so, he had spent his life searching for them.

He had thought he found the cup at the witch Hepzibah Smith's house…but when he went back there again to retrieve it...it was gone.

As for dearest Ravenclaw's diadem…that lying hag hadn't found it at all. She had a goblin-wrought tiara engraved with the letter 'R', but the markings didn't match with the historical documents of the diadem. It was a fake. And so, his search for this Gift continued.

And then he had gone to Dumbledore, his old Muggle-loving professor, who'd just been made headmaster, for a teacher's position. He'd known he would never get it, of course. But that trip into Hogwarts had shown him exactly where the third gift of the Founders' was—the sword. And he had tried to retrieve it ever since. His idiotic servant and host Quirrell tried first, and failed abysmally—of course, he had been after the Philosopher's Stone then as well. And then there was that Crouch boy who got his soul sucked in the end and was of no more use to him. Even his formerly faithful servant Severus had tried…but who could ever know if he tried hard enough?

Never the matter. He would get it soon enough; he would be sending another in his stead to try their hand at retrieving this gift. And when he acquired it, then it too would be safely hidden with a slice of his soul inside.

The final gift he already had. It was Slytherin's locket, and he had turned it into a Horcrux not too soon before his fall.

That dreadful night he had lost to a mere baby he had planned to make another one. He had brought a special object along, just for the occasion. What better person to put to death for the making of a Horcrux than the very boy who was slated to kill him? But alas…that evening did not turn out quite as planned…and Voldemort's soul had been the only thing he had left. Even the object he had brought to make a Horcrux had been destroyed.

And so the years passed, as he grew in strength. After Wormtail found him, they took refuge in his father's old house. His fourth Horcrux, his beloved Nagini, was made through the death of a Muggle from the village. He then had four. Until, of course, his deathday party when that fool of a servant, Lucius Malfoy, told him that the Horcrux that had been explicitly entrusted to him had been given away to the Weasley girl and destroyed.

That was Lucius's first mistake.

For a while, he feared that he would never find the only objects that would work as Horcruxes. He turned his time, instead, to figuring out the rest of that long-awaited prophecy about him and the boy. The Horcruxes were important, yes…but they were only defenses after all. The prophecy, however…if he had been given the prophecy as was the plan, he would have an offense to create and build on. No more hiding away like common thieves and murderers. But their little tryst at the Department of Mysteries mere months ago had not gone as planned, either.

That was Lucius's second mistake.

So here he stood, only three living Horcruxes to his name. He had thought for a while to make four more instead of three, to compensate for the one that was destroyed. His plan, after all, had been to make seven Horcruxes. But no…six would be better. After all, there was his own soul as well, meaning his soul would be split into seven instead of eight. Only then could he become the greatest sorcerer of all time…

A monstrous roar split the air in the distance. Covered by mist and darkness, he saw only the light of several spells as his Death Eaters tried to tame the Isle's beasts. Terrified shouts mingled with the monsters' roars.

His snake-like mouth split into an evil grin.

Yes…this place was perfect. The only thing more fitting was if he had Hogwarts as well. Only then could he have Harry Potter within his grasp and Albus Dumbledore in his clutches.

But, patience…he would have them soon enough. The first attack on Hogwarts would take place before the Hogwarts Express even got to the castle, and more were planned as soon as term started again.

And what was more, he was sending a spy to Hogwarts.

It could not be simply any spy, of course. No…Dumbledore was smarter than that. This spy needed to have been there before, needed to know the lay-out, who could entrust himself within his enemy's inner circles…

But this spy would not be the only one. Lord Voldemort was no fool. And so, he had entrusted many eyes to watch Hogwarts this year. Because soon, he would overtake it. And he needed as much help from the inside as he could rally.

But this time…the spy wasn't Severus. In fact, Severus was the one who was being spied on this year. He could no longer trust Severus…ever since he failed to retrieve the third gift for his master, while his fellow Death Eaters were fighting at the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore had come to fight as well, leaving Severus ample enough time to steal into the old wizard's office and remove the protections around it. But instead, he had come to their next meeting declaring failure, as Lucius had done only moments earlier. And so, he could no longer be trusted.

The Dark Lord sighed. Two of his most faithful servants. What a waste of wizarding intelligence.

Lucius was now in Azkaban, as was more of his Death Eaters. This made no matter—he had a plan that would soon break them all out again. But he was tempted to leave Lucius there quite a bit longer…make him think about his actions…and then he would be given one more chance. And if he failed this time, it wouldn't just be his own life to pay, but his wife and son. The young Malfoy boy would make a good Death Eater…perhaps he would give the boy a chance to redeem himself after he killed the boy's father and mother. He would send the boy to Hogwarts to be his new spy. But then again, perhaps not. After all, prices must be paid, and three mistakes called for three lives.

But another chance wasn't in the works for dear Severus. Because of his failure, the spy was to become the spied upon. And what was more, his master would be killing three dragons with one spell. Finding out if Severus was truly loyal to him, as well as sending someone to steal the third gift, and, before the year was up, to steal Harry Potter from his foolish master's clutches.

Harry Potter…was the key to everything. Without Harry, he could not succeed. And with Harry's death, he would make his three final Horcruxes.

But the boy was far too protected. Already Voldemort had tried and failed multiple times to secure the boy.

So a plan had been formed to capture the two friends that Harry Potter would do anything to rescue and protect.

Ronald Weasley, Pureblood…

And Hermione Granger. Mudblood.

His lip curled in disgust.

His Death Eaters were going to capture these two and bring them to these new headquarters. And Harry Potter of course would follow. If Voldemort succeeded in taking them, he would then have Potter. And with the sacrifice he had planned, Voldemort would be far more powerful, and much sooner than anticipated.

And this all had to happen on All Hallow's Eve. The night of purest magic, when evil was the most powerful.

And if did not work out according to plan…then he, at least, would live to kill the boy another day.

The roars of the monsters mingled with the roar of the sea, echoing in the coming autumn air.

Voldemort smiled, and looked out over his domain in the formerly-abandoned castle over the wild, untamed land of the Isle of Drear.

* * *

It was a dreary day.

A boy with black hair and round spectacles stood on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters facing the Hogwarts Express, about to embark upon his sixth year at Hogwarts. His name was Harry Potter and, like everyone else on that platform, he was a wizard.

_Not just any wizard, though, _he thought sarcastically as the dark skies rumbled with thunder. _No, I have to be Harry bleeding Potter, the bloody Boy Who Lived. I have to go off saving people all the time and be trailed by guards everywhere and have a murderer after me every step of the way. I can't just be like everyone else._

_For once I want to know what it's like to be normal…_

Around him, students were bidding tearful goodbyes to their families, wondering if they were ever going to see them again. Harry, however, did not have this dilemma. His only living relatives, the exceptionally Muggle Dursleys, would never have lowered themselves to wish Harry good luck. Just imagining them waving to him in this magical setting as they stood amongst witches and wizards made Harry laugh.

There were two pops next to him.

"What is this, I hear? A cheerful sound amidst our own darkening gloom?" said Fred.

George replied, "Quoth me, a noise I haven't heard since our own youth..."

"Hullo. I thought you two couldn't make it?" Harry asked them both.

"We decided to come see the younger generation off on their dangerous, treacherous, _lecherous_ journey—" said George.

"—of which you will be taking a part of—" said Fred.

"Hang on," Harry broke in with a chuckle. "Who said anything about it being dangerous? What, you reckon just because _I'm_ on board—"

To his astonishment, however, Fred and George looked at each other, suddenly worried.

"Excuse us, Harry—"

"—I believe Ron has —"

"—er, nose-hairs to be plucked—"

"—quite right!"

As they walked away, George reached over and whacked Fred on the head. Harry was left alone to wonder about the odd behaviour of the twins, the treacherous journey he apparently had to undertake, and Ron's ginger nose-hairs.

* * *

"Oy—what're you—stop staring at my nose! Bugger off, you two!" said Ron irritably. Fred and George had rushed at him after their conversation with Harry, weird and annoying as usual.

"Aw, is ickle Ronnie-kins embarrassed?"

"No wonder! Look at the size of that thing!"

Ron swatted at them and hugged Mum, if only to hide his red face.

"…and you be _careful, _do you hear me? That goes for you too, Ginny! I will not be awakened in the middle of the night with the knowledge that you've run off to face You-Know-Who, again. I simply won't have it this time! And Ron, mind you're taking your potion every night. I'll have Hermione owl me if you don't," she said, wiping at her face.

"Mum, you don't have to be so loud," he moaned. "I'll take it, all right?"

"Now, now, Molly, no need to humiliate him," said Dad, hugging Ron tight. He said quietly, into his ear, "She is right, you know. Don't you be running off like last time. And don't tell him I said this, but look after Harry. He's going to have a hard time of it this year, now the wizarding world knows about Vol…Volde…oh, You-Know-Who-I'm-Talking-Of. And I know you don't often get along with her, but I think Hermione would profit the most from your friendship this year. Molly's told me she thinks Hermione is—er—that is to say, I think that girl is—ah, well, you'll find out. She is a dear girl. Be a gentleman."

Ron's ears were red as he pulled away. Unfortunately, the twins had heard this last.

"But Brother George! Dost mine ears deceive me?" said Fred.

"I durst say they don't! Why, Brother Frederick, I do believe that—" said George.

"—it _must_ be true, that—"

"—Ickle Ronnie fancies _Hermione!" _they chorused.

Ron spluttered. "I _don't—_I'm _not—_I would _never—_!"

"Knock it off, you two," Dad said sharply to them.

They began to protest, but Ron was no longer listening. He looked over at Hermione, who was hugging her parents goodbye with a smile on her face. She looked rather nice today—she was smiling, her skin tanner than usual, she was wearing a rather pretty blouse—

_That's preposterous! I don't…_like…_her. She's my friend…same as Harry…she's always been my friend…_

* * *

"He's just a friend, Mother, please," said Hermione. She desperately hoped her mother didn't talk too loud—what if Ron heard?

Mother smiled. "If you say so, my dear. But your father and I are getting along in years. We would like to see some grandchildren before we die."

Hermione grew pink.

Dad chuckled. "Now, Cordelia, you made her blush. And if I ever saw some grandchildren, it would be too soon! I would rather she grow up an old maid than to fall in love with a beau at her age! She's my little girl, and I'm not too keen on giving her up."

Hermione hugged her dad tight. "I'll miss you, Dad," she whispered. "And you don't have to worry—I can be your little girl for a while longer."

She buried her face into his shirt, and breathed in deeply. He always smelled of spice and mint toothpaste, and every time she hugged him, it soothed her. He nestled his own head in her curls—brown, just like his.

"David, she does need to be going," her mother said. "How I wish your sister could be here for this…"

Hermione felt a pang in her heart. Her older sister Gertrude had died when Hermione was a baby, but it was still a tender subject for them. And for Mother to be thinking about her now while Hermione was leaving them again made her feel all the more guilty.

"Yes...yes, she would be so proud of everything you have done, my little Neenie," Dad said, using her baby name. "But she is watching over you now and will take great care of you. Never you fret."

Hermione released him, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. She turned to her mother.

"Hermione," said Mother. "I will miss you! The both of us will. And if you do decide to start a relationship this year—oh, shush, David—then be sure it's only to the best of young men. And remember our talk over the summer. Never let anyone take advantage of you—"

"_Mother!" _

"Oh, love, I need a hug now."

Hermione sighed and hugged her mum.

"Delia, darling, she does need to be going," said Dad, teasing her mum.

"Give everyone my love when you see them!" said Hermione, trying not to cry. "And I promise I'll be home for Christmas this year! I know it wasn't fair to you for me to spend half my summer with the Weasleys—"

"Never fret, darling. We only want you to be happy," said Mother.

But for some reason, even though she was going off to Hogwarts, Hermione couldn't feel happy. The only thing she felt at the moment mirrored the skies threatening to spill above—sad.

Sad and dreary.

* * *

It was rather sad and dreary having to say goodbye to the twins and Bill and Charlie, Ginny thought. Percy wasn't there, of course. He tried on several occasions to apologize to the family, but they all knew he only half-meant what he was saying.

"Never would've expected that from He-Who-Sucketh-Up," Fred had muttered.

As it was, Ginny had enjoyed the summer too much to really look forward to going back to Hogwarts this year. She was too afraid of leaving her family. Attacks had been made all summer—what if they were next?

"Never you worry about us, Gin-Gin," said Bill, tweaking her hair. She grimaced at the childish pet name he used. "We'll be all right."

"Of course we will," Charlie agreed, winking. "And I've got a surprise for you this year—just wait till you see her—"

"Her? Is it a girl then? Don't tell me one of you prats actually landed a girlfriend!" Ginny teased.

Bill and Charlie shared amused grins. "Oh…it's a girl all right…"

"Well, when can I meet her? Have you proposed? Is there a wedding date set? Am I finally going to have a sister?"

Bill roared with laughter. Charlie, meanwhile tried to calm her down.

"Listen, Gin, you mustn't tell anyone, all right? But she's…rather fiery. I daren't bring her around just yet," he said.

Ginny saw students boarding the train, and gave them both tight hugs.

"You be careful, Gin," said Bill over her head. "Don't give us a reason to come save you, now—and we will, too, we're both in the Order. I don't care what Harry says this time—he's a good chap, and I love him like a brother, and he _did _save you…and Dad…and Ron…but I don't want you blindly following anyone."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but Charlie agreed.

"We've been able to tell for a while that you like him. Don't worry—we haven't told anyone—whatever the matter, use your head. If you have to save him, then do it, but don't go leaving Hogwarts for any sort of midnight excursions," Charlie said as they hugged. "Well…I suppose romantic rendezvous are all right, but not the dangerous kind! And this is coming from me, you understand, which goes to show how serious I am."

She rolled her eyes and rushed off to the train.

"And Ginny!" Charlie called after her. "Slaughter the Slytherins in Quidditch this year, won't you?"

She sighed and grinned wickedly. "That's my job!"

* * *

"But that's _my_ job!"

"Not while you're at school, it isn't—"

Neville couldn't stop looking at the quarrelling pair. It was a mother with her daughter who couldn't have been more than a year or two younger than him. They both had black hair and dark skin, and the girl had startling gray eyes that Neville couldn't look away from—he swore he'd seen them before, only on someone else...

She suddenly glanced up at him and glared. He tore his eyes away and looked over at his grandmother, growing pink. He hoped she hadn't thought he was staring—that was rather rude, he should have known better—

"What has got you all of a dither, Neville?" said Gran sternly from behind him. "I would think you'd miss me more, being away so long. Who were you staring at? Not the Freemans, I hope? That Aletha Freeman has got some nerve, showing up here with that child! Born out of wedlock, she was. And nobody has a clue who the child's father is. A Muggle, I expect. I simply don't know how she passed on the gene…"

It was no use arguing with her. She had a mouth to talk the horns off an erumpent.

"Yes, Gran," said Neville miserably. His arms were full of his bags as he followed her to the train.

"Ex_cuse_ me!"

He stopped.

The black girl—Freeman, Gran called her—was standing in front of him, tapping her foot on the pavement. Her face held a soured expression, and in her arms she held a toad.

"Oh no, did he escape again?" said Neville, putting his trunk down and reaching out to take him.

Freeman didn't let him. "Did you have some poor excuse for staring at me earlier, or were you dropped on your head as a baby?"

He blinked. "Erm...sorry...you just...reminded me of someone, is all..."

Her brow quirked. "Oh, really? Who?"

"Well, I don't really know," he stammered. "That's why I was staring. I was trying to figure it out...I'm rather sorry..."

The girl sighed. "Oh, well, it could happen to anyone, I suppose. Here's your toad, by the way."

Startled by the sudden change of emotion, Neville looked at her.

"You're rather strange, you know," he blurted out. At once he blushed. Gran had raised him better than that...insulting someone he'd just met...

She stuck out her tongue, making her look several years younger. "Am not!"

"Er. Sorry. Anyway, I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom." He stuck his hand out suddenly.

She scrutinized it before slowly holding out her own small, slender one, toad and all. "Meghan. Meghan Freeman."

White hand met black around Trevor the Toad, and they shook.

* * *

With shaking hands, Luna of Ravenclaw took the item her father held out to her. "But Daddy—I can't—"

Most all the students were already on the train, and parents and family members Disapparated or disappeared through the platform wall one by one. A few of them, however, still remained.

"Yes, you can. It was your mother's, and she would want you to have it," said Gerald Lovegood, with a sad smile.

She stroked the small orb in the middle of the tiara with her finger. It was miniscule—barely bigger than a Knut or a Blibbering Humdinger—and it hung in the middle of the silvery middle spike. If she peered into the swirling silvery depths of the orb long enough, she could even make out shapes—a train, a raven, a cloak…

Slipping it onto her head, Luna smiled as a feeling of safety settled over her. "I'll miss you, Daddy. I love you. Don't find the Snorkack without me!"

Her father grinned and hugged her. "Of course I won't. Be the best person you can be. Go change the world."

"You too, Daddy," she said, smiling and hugging him back.

Over her father's shoulder, she saw Draco Malfoy standing in the shadows with his mother. His father was nowhere to be seen…Luna suspected this was because his father was in prison now. With worried glances around them, Narcissa Malfoy pressed something into Draco's hand, and he looked at her in disbelief before taking it.

Luna could hear snatches of their conversation with her finely-tuned ears. Words like "…be careful…" "…make sure no one sees you…" and "…this mission was entrusted to you…" were audible.

And then Draco Malfoy looked up, his gray eyes boring right into Luna's own silver ones. She stared at him, unabashedly, not bothering to look away. Their silent contest was broken when the whistle blew.

* * *

When the whistle blew, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all hurried to board the train, and met Neville and Luna just before getting on.

Harry noticed that this was the first time they were all together since they risked their lives for him. He suddenly felt a lump in his throat, and opened his mouth to say something—

"Well? What are you all standing around for? Get a bloody move on!" snapped Draco Malfoy from behind them. He and the dark girl Neville saw earlier were glaring at them. They were the last ones left on the platform.

The whistle blew once more, and Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy, and Meghan Freeman all boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Little did they know that they would be thrown together more than once before the year's end.


	2. A Dreary Day

**A DREARY DAY**

The Hogwarts Express rolled along the railroad tracks, intent on carrying the students inside to their school.

In one compartment looking out the foggy window, Harry studied the darkened landscape as the train whizzed by, alternating that with watching the pounding water slide down the window pane.

He was alone. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were gone to the prefects' car, and Neville and Luna had just left him after hanging out for a few hours. And so he was left to his thoughts.

He let them hover on the edge of everything he had learned from the Weasleys, Dumbledore, and the occasional visit from Order members at the Burrow. From how the _Daily Prophet_ reacted to the news of You-Know-Who's return, to how deeply contrite they all were for disbelieving Harry and Dumbledore and making them out as frauds. From the latest reports on the Death Eaters, to what the Order was doing to try and halt them in their work. From how both sides had been recuperating from the battle at the Department of Mysteries to how the Minister was faring with leading the Ministry into the fight alongside Dumbledore against Voldemort.

Before any of that had happened, however, his summer had started out like any other.

His first few weeks with the Dursleys had, like every other year before it, been practically uneventful…if you were to count Dudley Dursley, age sixteen, on house arrest something not too extraordinary.

It seemed that, for the first time in their lives, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had seen through their precious son's disguise once he had come home on holiday. Instead of ignoring all the talk of him getting drunk and smoking and simply refusing to believe it all as they had done the previous summer, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had decided to put an end to it.

Harry wasn't quite sure what it was exactly that had convinced them their prized possession wasn't nearly as spotless as they had thought, but he was fairly sure that Mrs. Next Door's cat being found near the town hall drinking whisky out of Dudley's renowned Smeltings wrestling championship cup had something to do with it.

As it was, they finally confronted Dudley and heard all about his habit of going off with his friends and getting drunk—although hearing it from Harry's cousin's point of view, you'd think that Piers Polkiss and his gang were Death Eaters who Imperiused Dudley to get wasted with them. Never mind all the neighbors' reports of him and his friends vandalizing the park and spray-painting the brick walls of property houses or getting caught smoking in the alley-ways.

According to Vernon and Petunia Dursley of Number 4, Privet Drive, they were convinced their son was being blackmailed.

Thus it was Dudley Dursley, for the first time in his life, being kept under lock and key—"For fear of that nasty boy he hangs around with will spoil our dear Dudder-kins and ruin his reputation!" But what exactly they hoped to accomplish by this, Harry did not know, seeing as how Dudley found a way to sneak out every night anyway and come home in the early hours, completely zonked.

But house arrest had quite a few other side-effects, most prominent of which meant that Harry also had to be stuck inside the house during his entire duration there.

Luckily for him, however, he only needed to stay at the Dursleys' for two weeks during that whole summer.

_Shortest vacation with them ever. Didn't have to deal with that stupid house arrest long before Dumbledore and the Weasleys owled, saying I could spend the remainder of the holiday at the Burrow…and to look forward to not seeing the Dursleys for the rest of this year, Dumbledore said…_

Harry had chuckled at this part—he didn't take Dumbledore as one for this sort of blunt statement, but he was bound to notice how much Harry despised his relatives sooner or later.

So it was a rather pleased Harry that the Knight Bus dropped off near the middle of July at the Weasley household—with Dumbledore as his chaperone, much to Harry's confusion—and it was a gleeful Ron and Ginny who came out to greet him.

The Burrow hadn't been the same without the twins living there that summer, even though they came by to visit on weekends and popped in every now and then to sit back and relax with the family. They had come home full of tales of how things were going. The both of them were living in Hogsmeade now, in the rooms above their shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"It's a pity we couldn't get that one place on Diagon Alley we were looking at," said George wistfully one summer day. "We had the place picked out and everything."

"Number ninety-three," Fred reminisced, smiling. "It was the very pinnacle of perfection. Those lazy, no-account bureaucrats…"

"Sold us out, they did. Stabbed our backs, they did."

"But there'll be better business in Hogsmeade anyhow," said Fred. "Hundreds of students, all dying to get the newest pranking devices—and we won't only be having business from the lot of them on Hogsmeade days too—"

"That's right, little ones," said George in a phony announcer's voice not unlike those on the WWN, "For the simple price of two Sickles, you too can own an official owl-to-order catalogue, complete with—"

"—a pricelist of all of our products—" said Fred.

"—a 'guaranteed-to-succeed' Sickle Order—"

"—a charmed section called 'Which Wheezes' which details what's on sale, every day—"

"—and of course, you can't live without—"

"Coupons!" they said.

Ginny was caught more than once hanging on to their every word about the new things they were inventing in their little room in the back, how excited they were for Opening Day on Halloween, and their future plans on selling Zonko's out of business. It had been oddly depressing walking onto the train without the twins, and watching them wave good-bye on platform nine and three-quarters, Harry thought.

And now…well, now Harry was just depressed and frustrated.

Depressed because just two weeks ago, three tawny owls came soaring into the Burrow's kitchen bearing notes with the Hogwarts crest to three lucky people: two telling Ron and Hermione they were prefects again; the third making Ginny shriek in joy and knock her orange juice all over the table.

Depressed because, even though he knew that they really did deserve it, a fair portion of him still wished that he didn't have to be left out once again.

Depressed because just as soon as he stepped onto the train from platform nine and three-quarters, all three of his friends had left him for the prefects' meeting at the front of the train and he was left to scavenge for a compartment for himself.

He was mad at Hermione, even though she didn't really want to go, and kept consoling him with the knowledge that they would be back as soon as they could get out of there because she thought she knew how he felt.

He was mad at Ron for taking Hermione's lead and telling him that being a prefect wasn't all that it was made out to be, really, and Harry was much better off not having to sit through a three-hour-long lecture on how they had better improve their inter-House unity "or else it's your own prefect status that will pay".

And he was mad at Ginny for being so bubbly and happy, and talking constantly about how glad she was that she was a prefect and how that was the best thing in the world.

Of course, Harry put on a bright smile and pretended everything was okay. What else was he supposed to do? A part of him felt guilty for being mad at them when they hadn't even done anything, but all he had to do was think of the three of them sitting in the prefects' compartment and having a grand old time with each other for that feeling to disappear.

Luna and Neville coming in and keeping him company a half-hour into the ride did help, but it wasn't as easy to talk with the pair of them. Harry had hopes that they'd be better friends this time around, though, so maybe that was subject to change. He had a feeling that Ginny was going to be hanging out with them a lot more, and quite possibly Neville and Luna as well, especially after what had happened last June.

But they only stayed for two hours before leaving again, and Harry was left once more to his own thoughts.

Thoughts like his O.W.L. results and what classes he'd be taking this year.

It wasn't long into the summer before Hermione said worriedly, "By the way, have either of you gotten your O.W.L. results back? I haven't, and McGonagall said they would come two weeks after the school year ended."

Neither Ron nor Harry had gotten theirs and needed to reassure Hermione that no, they hadn't flunked their exams and yes, they would be going back to Hogwarts. It didn't take long for Harry and Ron to forget about them again, but Hermione didn't. She stayed very alert for the Hogwarts owl that was supposed to come, but it never did, and she finally wrote to Professor McGonagall a week before the start of term.

Had Harry and Ron flunked everything? Is that why there was no owl? But Hermione couldn't've, surely...but what other reason would their results not have gotten to them?

Interrupting his depressing thoughts, the door to his compartment slid open and revealed Hermione, Ginny, and a red-faced Ron as they finally came in from their prefect meeting.

"Oh, that _horrid—" _were Hermione's first words upon entering, as Ron slammed the door behind them.

"What happened?" said Harry.

"Take a wild guess," snarled Ron.

"We came across Draco Malfoy torturing poor Neville," Ginny explained.

"He actually Transfigured him into a toad! I mean, it's a tricky bit of magic—I didn't know Malfoy could do it_._ All the Slytherins were just playing with him and tossing him back and forth. They could really have hurt him!" said Hermione.

Harry felt bile rise up in his throat, and called Malfoy a name that made Ron nod and Hermione blush. "How'd you know it was Neville, then, and not a pet?"

"We didn't," said Ron. "That was all Luna. She was with us when we went past their compartment, and said, 'They really shouldn't do that to Neville.'"

The door opened again and a red-faced Neville walked in, helped by Luna Lovegood.

"You all right, then?" Harry asked him.

"Yeah. Worst things have happened," said Neville, shrugging glumly.

"I should've known, when you didn't come back," Harry said. "I didn't even think that something had happened—"

"It's not your fault. You can't just tag along every time anyone goes somewhere. It's me...I really need to just defend myself. That spell hit me out of nowhere; I didn't even see it coming. With all you taught us in the D.A. last year...I should have been more prepared. There's a reason you taught us that stuff," said Neville. He looked down at the wand in his hands gloomily.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other before coming to his defense.

"But Neville, you were so good at the Department of Mysteries! You did more damage than anyone, save Harry," said Hermione.

"Yeah, they took both of us out before they could even get to you," said Ron, gesturing to him and Hermione.

"Listen, Neville, the Slytherins hardly ever give you a chance to defend or protect yourself—you should know that by now. I doubt any one of us could have known in time to put up a shield or stop them. You did what you could," Harry said.

Neville gave them a shy smile and sat up straighter. "So d'you think you'll be starting up the D.A. again this year, Harry?"

_Hopefully this year we won't need to have secret combat clubs…but it would be nice if we could have them even if they aren't as needed. We all had fun with them. And who knows? Maybe we can bring more people in and have them brush up on their defense skills._

Every compartment surrounding theirs was soon full of the D.A. and every couple of hours someone new would pop their heads in and talk with them as they sat. The three or four train compartments besides their own comprised solely of D.A. members set a feeling deep down in Harry's chest to grumbling happily. With a shock, he recognized it as pride and triumphant satisfaction.

_At least I've done this much right. _

The old group of last year was still going strong, even though none of them were together officially anymore. They all knew that if this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was going to be a flop, they'd all be up and running again, but Harry had gotten hints from Dumbledore's visit with him over the summer that he'd hired someone who actually deserved the title.

But still, just the knowledge that Dumbledore's Army had done something worth remembering, and something still worth mentioning, made them all proud of themselves.

Harry smiled at this, but it died when he remembered that he could no longer play Quidditch this year anymore. He remembered all too well the circumstances which led to his, Fred, and George's dismissal of Quidditch from the long-hated Professor Umbridge.

"But she's not at Hogwarts any more—they'd have to let you back!" Ron said when Harry mentioned this.

"They might not be able to, Ron," Hermione replied. "Remember? She was the High Inquisitor when she banned Harry. She was put in St. Mungo's soon after…well, you know…and no one ever thought to release her from being High Inquisitor, so technically speaking, she still is. Which means that there may not be a way for Professor Dumbledore to remove all the decrees she made and let you come back to play Quidditch."

This had dampened the trio's moods considerably after that, and Harry was now beginning to feel the effects again.

_And even if they can somehow let me back on the team, there really isn't anything to come back to, _he thought, gloomily.

The golden team comprising of Oliver Wood, Fred and George Weasley, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and himself was no more. The former five had already graduated and wouldn't be coming back this year, leaving only him and Katie out of the original bunch.

Last year had Angelina Johnson as captain replacing Wood; and when the fight happened that took away her Beaters, she had to bring in Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper. Both of whom were very poor players and famous for hitting themselves and their teammates with their bats more than the Bludgers or the opposing team. Harry was quite hoping they would not be coming back this season.

Replacing him as Seeker was none-other-than Ginny Weasley. He supposed she could be Seeker again this year if he couldn't come back to play, but she'd already been practicing all summer to become a Chaser. Ron would probably still be Keeper, but if his performance was worse than last year, Gryffindor could go ahead and line up for last place.

_All in all, _Harry thought, _We can pretty much kiss the Cup goodbye this year. And consider my Quidditch days as being over. Well, I've had a nice run while it's lasted…_

A wave of depression slid over him at the thought of not having Quidditch to look forward to during the school year.

Though it was comfortable just sitting here with his friends, as the day wore on and turned darker, Harry's mood darkened with it. They had already been traveling for most of the day and the storm just kept worsening.

His day was just about to get worse.

"Why, look what the kneazle's dragged in," said a cold voice behind them.

Hermione and Ginny both jumped at the sound. Harry whipped out his wand and whirled around to face none other than Draco Malfoy. Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, of course, were glaring menacingly from either side of him.

A poster-child Slytherin with sleek blond hair and cold gray eyes, Malfoy had tormented Harry and his friends since day one, and Harry knew today wouldn't be any different. Crabbe and Goyle were the closest things Malfoy had to friends, though "hired goons" came closer to their real relationship.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry said sharply.

Malfoy stepped forward and surveyed them all while Goyle and Crabbe blocked the open train door behind them. Harry at once felt his senses tighten at this—the Slytherins were standing in front of their only way out, and Death Eaters could be swarming this area in a matter of seconds.

_This is not good._

A smug grin slid across Malfoy's face. "But don't you know? I want what I always want this time of year—to come and visit my favorite hero, pauper, and Mudblood. After all, I never know when it's going to be the last—"

"I'm getting sick of your stupid game, ferret. Get your goons out of our faces and get the bloody hell out!" Harry snapped.

"Calm yourself, Potter," Malfoy said in a patronizing tone, "You think I'm going to obey you just because you demand? Just because everyone else is stupid enough to bow down and worship the 'Golden Boy' doesn't mean _I _am."

He pulled out his wand and cast a Silencing Charm on the corridor around them—nobody outside could hear them now. Harry's hand tightened on his own wand.

_This is definitely not good._

"Why did you do that?" asked Hermione, her voice high and tense. She, like Harry, knew how bad the situation was getting and did not like it one bit.

"Somehow I don't think that you of all people, Granger, need a lesson on what Silencing Charms do," Malfoy scoffed. "I'm making sure no one can hear us. There are just under a thousand people on this train. You think I'm going to want them all eavesdropping on what I say? Hmm…and on second thought, perhaps I should just take one more precaution—_expelliarmus!"_

Harry's wand was jerked from his grasp and three more wands soared over his head and into the waiting hand of Draco Malfoy. Behind him, Ron fumed.

"This is really starting to piss me off," Ron hissed. "Give them back!"

"I don't have any intention of keeping your filthy wands," said Malfoy scathingly. "I'm just going to be borrowing them until I'm finished. I have to make sure that you don't try anything, don't I?"

"Like giving you what you deserve?" said Ginny unexpectedly from behind Harry. "If you wish to have your bogeys flying around your head all year, feel free to stay. If not, leave!"

With seven people all on their feet, the compartment seemed more crowded than ever. Malfoy, in an uncharacteristic show of nonchalance, leaned against the door, shaking his head. "Before I've even had a chance to tell you what I've really come to say? That wouldn't make me a very good messenger, would it?"

Harry's insides froze. There was something in the way Malfoy was drawing himself up, guardedly, his eyes glinting in a dangerous light as if he knew something—something very important that was taking all his attention…

"Say it," Hermione said, almost faintly. Harry didn't have to turn and look at her to know that she, too, had zeroed in on 'messenger' and come to the same conclusion Harry had. "Give us your message and be done with it."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and looked at Hermione a little longer. He flicked back to Harry. "You know, Potter, you're not the only one the Dark Lord wants. You may have outsmarted him and put my father and his friends in prison, but I'd watch my back if I were you. They'll be out of there in no time, mark my words, and when they are, not even Dumbledore will be able to help you."

Harry could feel Ron, Hermione, and Ginny tense behind him.

"Thanks for the warning," Harry said stonily. "But the last time I checked, I didn't have Dumbledore to come save my arse the past three times I faced Voldemort. I think I'll do just fine, thanks."

Malfoy glared at him. "I knew you wouldn't take me seriously, and you will seriously regret it. You and your little sidekicks won't last a minute with him and his followers this time. You don't _know _what he's planning—"

"Oh, and I suppose _you_ do?" Harry snapped.

He supposed the smart thing to do would have been to let Malfoy keep talking—as wont as he was to admit it, the slimy Slytherin probably did know something about Voldemort's plans that he didn't—but his anger got the better of him.

"Like the likes of him would stoop so low as to confide in a stupid sixteen-year-old and spill all of his deep, dark secrets?" Harry continued. "I knew you thought a lot of yourself, _Draco_, but even that is rather idiotic for you."

Malfoy's expression was unreadable. Then his brows furrowed and he hissed between his teeth. "You think you're so knowledgeable of the Dark Arts and the Death Eaters, don't you, just because you've had a few little trysts with them? You think you know what the Dark Lord is planning just because you took a little walk inside his head last year? You think that just because you fought off an Imperius in class you've got what it takes to win a battle against Death Eaters?

"Well, I've got news for you! _You_ haven't had to fight off the Imperius every night of your childhood. _You've_ never even been inside a Death Eater's house, let alone had to live alongside the Dark Arts every day. _You've_ seen the Dark Lord once every year—so what? I've lived with him! You think you know everything just because he's tried to kill you once or twice… But you haven't seen half the stuff I have, or heard half the things I've heard, and if you knew so much as an ounce of what I know, you'd—"

"I'd what?" said Harry coldly. "Go running to mummy and daddy and wish I was dead like them?"

"I'm warning you—!" Malfoy's wand gave a small spark, but otherwise didn't move.

Harry caught a movement behind the three Slytherins and a smirk spread across his own face. "No, I think it's you who's been warned. Now if I were you—and I'm bloody well ecstatic that I'm not—I'd leave before my welcome's been overstayed—"

There were six blinding flashes and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle collapsed on top of one another.

"Whoops," Harry finished, deadpan. "Too late."


	3. The Slytherin Compartment

**THE SLYTHERIN COMPARTMENT**

Harry stepped over the three unconscious bodies and unlocked the door—the glass on it had been broken by the six combined spells and was now littering the floor. The compartment entrance slid open to reveal a gaggle of familiar faces peering in, hands tucking wands back into their pockets.

"Thanks—" Harry began, when he realized they couldn't hear him. He reached down and plucked his wand out of Malfoy's pocket, tossing the other three behind him for his friends to sort out their own, then cast the counter-charm for the Silencer. All at once a wave of noise came at them.

"—sorry if we were late, we didn't know—"

"—saw Malfoy and his goons head in and thought—"

"—you guys all right—"

"—what was going on?"

"—I said we should wait till we heard something, but we didn't—"

"—we saw their wands out—"

"It's all right, we're fine!" Harry said loudly over the noise. "Thanks, mates, for helping out. They cast a Silencing Charm so you couldn't hear us, and Malfoy had our wands so we couldn't defend ourselves, but you all were great! You did well."

Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, and the beaming Creevey brothers looked pleased that they hadn't made the situation worse, or had come barging in where it wasn't wanted.

"Can we get some help moving these disgusting gits out?" Ron asked.

The three Slytherins were levitated and moved to a compartment a few doors down. Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein, in particular, took great cares to make sure their heads bumped into every available doorway before stuffing them up and onto the luggage rack.

"That was a close call," Ron muttered to Harry as the two helped Neville lift Malfoy. "I thought those goons were their Death Eater fathers."

Harry looked at the pale face of the Slytherin before closing the door in the compartment. "I bet you anything he's got the Mark already..."

The rest of the train ride went by rather uneventfully until it was nearing close to dinner time. They were nearly there, Harry thought as he glanced out the window.

The coming darkness obscured the Forbidden Forest on either side of them.

He sighed as his eyes raked over Ron and Hermione from across the train's compartment. As much as he loved his two best friends, there were times when he felt he could strangle them. Now, however, was not one of those times. It wasn't that he wouldn't enjoy doing it—quite the contrary—but he was far too tired to do anything of the sort at the moment.

Hermione, as usual, could be found with her Hogwarts robes already on and her brown curls tucked beneath a silver clip. She was deeply engrossed in _Witches and Wizards of the 20th Century_, something Harry knew she had read more than twice, although she kept glancing at him when she thought he wasn't looking.

Neville and Luna sat opposite her, both peering over Luna's copy of _The Quibbler_—it seemed that the usually forgetful boy had convinced Luna to let them do the crossword puzzle right-side up, and Luna for her part was being quite generous in sharing her knowledge of her father's zany beliefs.

Harry thought at first that it was nice of Neville, doing that with her. Harry himself certainly wasn't being very social, and with Hermione reading her book and Ron and Ginny talking of Quidditch, there wasn't much left for Neville to do but humor Luna and become occupied himself in doing so. But then Harry saw that Neville wasn't just doing it to be polite or because he was bored.

_He's really having a nice time, talking to her. Well, good for Neville._

Luna looked up at Harry and caught him staring at them.

Her appearances certainly were a bit tamer than he recalled from his introduction to her last year at this time. Her long blonde hair looked rather nice in its loose plait, and at the end of it were blue and red ribbons going down her back. There were no radish earrings on her ears, nor was she sporting the bottle-cap necklace she had last year. Instead Harry saw a rather large badge ironed onto the school uniform she was now wearing, which featured an animal. It looked like a cross between a big-horned sheep and a yak; and above the animal were the words:

**The Crumple-Horned Snorkack:**

**Have YOU seen it?**

Harry grinned. She noticed him and smiled back, somewhat placidly, then went back to her puzzle.

Ginny's laughter pealed out across the air and Harry turned to see what they were going on about now. Ron had his mouth half-open, half-closed as he was trying to chew a twitchy Chocolate Frog that was likewise trying to get out of his mouth. Normally they only had one good jump in them, but judging by the way this one kept managing to get its webbed feet out from between his lips, it had several more than one.

Crookshanks, Hermione's ginger half-Kneazle cat, hopped onto Ron's lap and stared in fascination at his mouth, waiting for it to come out. Finally, Ron gave up and the Chocolate Frog shot out and ricocheted off the seat across from him. At once, Crookshanks pounced on it before it could get away.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "That one must have gone through the Charmer more than a dozen times, I reckon. Odd, that."

"That happens sometimes in the Muggle world, too," Harry spoke up. "Dudley once got a bag of chocolates that had twice the amount it usually has. He acted like it was Christmas."

Ginny snorted.

"Fat git," said Ron lazily. "Oi, I wonder when we'll be getting there. I'm starving."

"Since when is that different from how you normally are?" said Hermione.

"Since the last time I ate," came Ron's smooth reply.

He looked over at her as she made a face and went back to her book.

"So…tell me, Hermione. Who is it exactly that you find more fascinating than the rest of us? Is it a fat warlock who learned how to grow his toenails inside-out? Or a Spanish monk who transfigured the clouds to spell out 'Up Yours'?" Ron reached over and plucked the book from her hands, turning it around so it wasn't upside-down. "Who could possibly be better company than—_Harry?"_

He dropped the book in disgust.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Ron!" Hermione blushed.

"Huh?" Ginny said.

Ron looked at Hermione with a disgusted look as she snatched the book from the floor and wiped it off.

"There's nothing wrong with being interested in reading an article that has my best friend's name at the top, Ron," Hermione said crossly.

"But why do you need to read that when you've got the real thing right here?" Ron asked.

Harry opened his mouth to inform them that he didn't care for being talked about as a thing when he was "right here" as Ron said, but Hermione's reply drowned out his feeble attempts.

He sighed irritably.

Ginny caught Harry's eye as the squabbling began once more. _And here we go again, _her expression seemed to say in the same exasperated tone Harry felt. He heartily nodded in agreement.

It didn't seem that Ron and Hermione's bickering was upsetting Luna and Neville, however. On the contrary, they were engrossed in one of the articles; upon a closer look, Harry could see that it had something to do with shrinking Swedish Shortsnouts.

"Fine then," snapped Ron, standing up. "I'll just leave you to your Harry-mongering and make myself scarce."

"Ron—" Hermione sighed, exasperated. "If you're bored and fancying a game, just say so. I don't mind putting my book down—"

"Don't bother. I have to go to the loo, anyway."

Ron slid open the compartment door and disappeared into the corridor, leaving behind a rather bewildered Hermione. She looked over at Harry, who shrugged.

"Don't look at me," he said. "I thought _I_ was the moody one in here."

Ginny glanced up. "Don't fret about it, Hermione, he's just jealous that it's Harry who's in the book, as usual, and not him. Although…come to think of it…he's been acting like this all summer. With Harry, the two have been your average mourning augureys…I just don't know what Ron's grieving about."

She gave Harry a furtive look, which told him that she knew exactly why Harry had been moody all summer. He felt a sharp throb in his chest and forced himself to look out the window.

It was as he was trying not to think about Sirius that he saw it. His eyes snapped open.

He sat up and wiped away the part of the window his face had been pressed up against so he could see outside more clearly. But no...it wasn't there...he had imagined it yet again...

Harry leaned back, his face pale.

_That can't have been Padfoot, _he told himself. _I can't have just seen him...he's dead...Sirius is dead..._

* * *

When he left the compartment in a huff, Ron stomped down the train corridor with a disgusted air. He didn't know why it bothered him so much that Hermione was glued to books about Harry, but it did.

He passed several first-years running back and forth and snapped at them to stop. They looked at him with wide eyes and obeyed. Feeling somewhat satisfied, he came to the boys' lavatory and kicked it open, Hermione's voice echoing inside his head.

"_There's nothing wrong with being interested in reading an article that has my best friend's name at the top, Ron..."_

_Nothing wrong? As if!_

But what exactly was so wrong with it, he couldn't quite put his finger on.

_Not that it matters. Never does, to her. And since when is _he _her best friend, anyway? What about me? Or does she only keep me around to argue with and prove that she's right all the time…_

When he was finished, he stuck his hands under the sink's faucet and scrubbed furiously. So hard, in fact, that the soap suds were pushed further up his arm, and he had to dip them under the faucet to get it all off.

He admired how tan his skin looked under the water. Then he scowled. _Not that Hermione would notice. _She's _too busy looking up the hour and minute Harry was born to notice how much I've been working on Keeping all summer…_

He splashed some water on his face before turning the water off, staring at the last water rivulets as they made a circular pattern around the sink.

_It's not like they care anyway, do they, _said a nasty voice that crept into his mind. _But you'll show them…you'll show them all when you fly out onto the Quidditch field and block every goal. It'll serve them right not to notice you like you deserve to be. Why, look at what happened last summer—it's proof of how loyal your friends are. You were being attacked, and Harry simply ran off—_

Surprised, Ron jerked up, his face dripping. He grabbed the towel off the hook and wiped his face, trying to erase the voice from his mind. But the memory was there, and he hadn't gone far in drying his arms when he stopped to look at the long gashes across his skin. Although they were fading, they still looked angry and pink, and were soft to the touch. He fingered them, thinking back on the Battle at the Department of Mysteries…

He really couldn't remember much after a Death Eater had pointed a wand at him and yelled "_Confundo!"_, but he did remember the Brain Room.

For some reason, Ron had thought the brains were very funny at the time. His own sluggish laughs had made him sound drunk, and somewhere in his mind he knew that there was nothing funny about the situation at all. There was nothing funny about the frightened look on Harry's face, or noticing that Neville was splattered with blood, or seeing that Ginny was in pain, or seeing Hermione limp in Neville's arms…

But he could remember the feeling of absolute bliss, like nothing could ever be wrong in the world…like that night was all a big joke and they were simply there to have fun…

"_Hey, Harry…there are brains in here…"_

His own voice came to the surface of his mind from that night two months ago. And then, as if it were a trigger reigniting everything he'd forgotten about, the rest of it came flooding back.

A dark room…a large tank that cast an eerie purple-green light over the walls…and things…what looked like living things moving around inside it…

And the brains…swirling around with their long tentacles…

"_Ron, get out of the way, get down—"_

"_Honest, Harry, they're brains—look—Accio Brain!"_

"_RON_—_NO!"_

And the tendrils of thought unraveled as the brain flew towards him, wrapping themselves around him, tighter and tighter, squeezing him, roping him, choking him…

But that wasn't the thing he remembered the most.

No…what he remembered were the images—thoughts—pictures moving around his mind, burning into his brain—ideas that weren't his thoughts, memories that weren't his own—

They flew by so fast that Ron could hardly tell where one ended and the other began. He saw a castle, a gigantic spider-like monster with a gaping mouth, an angry ocean, a tomb, a powerful wand…he heard whispers and voices, names and places, and always the same person laughing in his head.

He didn't know how long the brain held him captive. The memories, the visions, faded away, and he forgot about them for a while.

But then came the dreams…

All summer they besieged him, showing him things that he didn't want to see, and yet he was somehow strangely intrigued by them. Usually they were scenes from a life Ron did not know. A dark dungeon with stone walls, iron bars, and a high window where he could hear the turning sea hitting the cliff rocks…there were a lot of dreams featuring simply this, and he couldn't get it out of his head how melancholy they made him. When he wasn't dreaming about the dungeon cell, it was about a large, dark castle with men walking around, and talk about monsters...and a wand. Someone really, really wanted a wand—but he could never see their faces, and he could never remember their words.

Ron shuddered and looked at himself in the mirror. It must have been the lighting, because he looked pale.

_Never mind that now, _he thought, rather melancholy. _The Dreamless Sleep potion Madam Pomfrey gave me last year's finally been working. Haven't had a dream for three weeks anyway. And _I _didn't come off with the worst of it that night…_

He thought darkly of how Neville had been Crucioed, how Ginny had broken her ankle and been Stunned, how Harry had been possessed by Voldemort, how Hermione…

Hermione was almost killed.

_I'm not used to this. Even after five years of being best mates with Harry bloody Potter—of facing mountain trolls and chess sets, large spiders and snakes, fun-sucking dementors and Grims, egg-shrieking dragons and merpeople, half-giant brothers and invisible flying horses…_

His stomach growled and he suddenly was reminded that Mum had packed him corned beef sandwiches again.

_And through it all, _why _can't she ever remember that I _hate _corned beef?_

He grumbled under his breath and rolled down his shirt-sleeves before opening the door to the loo. He hadn't got far on his way back to the others, however, when he heard a ruckus in one of the compartments.

"Damned prefect status," he muttered, before barging into the small cabin. "All right, what's the racket about—"

But it wasn't the second-year boys tousling over a Fanged Frisbee that he expected.

"Bugger off, Weasley!" snapped Nott.

"Hang on," said a black-haired, sour-eyed Slytherin girl whose name Ron thought might be Vaisey. "Perhaps he's come to watch our fun?"

"Or rather…come to _be _our fun?" sneered a seventh-year boy, much bigger and beefier than Ron.

It was a compartment full of sixth- and seventh-year Slytherins. There were seven in all, ranging from Nott's weedy size to this burly seventh-year, and two of them were girls. One boy, however, didn't seem to fit in with the rest of them. It took Ron a second to realize that he was a Gryffindor in Ginny's year, and he looked furious at his situation.

"I wouldn't mess with him, Rowle," said the other girl in a whiny voice. "We'll have Potter in here in no time."

"Oh, quit your whining, Davis," sneered Nott. "I'm not scared of that Mudblood-lover."

"Hoy, watch your mouth!" said Ron. "And leave that kid alone, why don't you? Pick on someone your own size."

"Like you?" said the big one called Rowle.

"Eh, we were finished with him anyway. Weren't we, _Rosier_?" said a tall sixth-year Ron knew to be Cyril Urquhart. He grabbed the Gryffindor kid by the collar and shoved his face next to his. "Now you be minding that ol' uncle of yours. He might be dead, but if you go against him, you'll be much worse off, you hear?"

He shoved the boy toward the door, and the kid called Rosier stumbled against Ron before taking off down the corridor without a backward glance.

"Right then," said Cyril Urquhart. "Since you robbed us of our entertainment, I suppose you'll have to do. _Expelliarmus!_"

Before Ron could yell, several hands seized his robes and pulled him in, shutting the door behind him.

"OY! Get your filthy Slytherin hands off me, you bas—" He flailed savagely, punching and kicking the bodies that grabbed him, connecting with various jaws and stomachs. Several voices swore and roared with pain—Nott's being one of them, Ron was grimly pleased to hear.

"Hold him—"

"Stop letting him kick me, you idiots—"

"Step on his arms!"

"Got him!" came the whiny girl's victorious cry—

Ron roared with pain as several Slytherins brought their feet down on his arms with their entire weight, his yell competing suddenly with a loud screech echoing throughout the train. Every hand that had seized him let go as the Slytherins covered their ears. Ron, however, couldn't afford this luxury as his arms were held down. He winced in pain, both from arms and ears.

"Wilkes, what the—"

"It's not _me—"_

"Bloody hell! Someone shut it off!"

"OW—Davis—get your fat arse off my foot—"

But the girl they all called Davis could do no such thing, as the train lurched to a stop and the horrible screeching ceased. As the Slytherins were all kneeling or standing, they collided with each other, and Ron, who had been shoved onto the floor before all this, found himself rolling underneath one of the seats.

Several of the Slytherins swore—_there seems to be bad tempers all around, _he thought furiously. For the moment, however, they seemed to have forgot about Ron.

In the midst of hands and feet and elbows, he spotted his wand under the shadow of a foot, and snatched it before it could get stepped on. Just as he did, the lights flickered out.

* * *

Hermione Granger was worried.

It was really dark now, and the rain had turned from drizzle to hail, clinking loudly against the roof of the train as it traveled.

_We've got to be nearly there, _she thought. _I don't remember the trek taking this long before—_

She kept looking over at Harry. He sat beside the window, staring out forlornly. Feeling a pang of pity, she wished that she could do something...say something...anything to help him get over Sirius' death. But nothing came to mind. She had never been in his position before. The closest she had come to losing someone had been her older sister when she was a baby. She could hardly remember it. Didn't even know about it for most of her life. But Harry...he'd lost both his parents, had Cedric killed in front of his eyes, and now Sirius...

_It isn't fair, _she thought. _It isn't fair for Sirius to die on him as well..._

She had just noticed how dark the room had gotten when Luna lifted her eyes from the page and said, with a cock of her head—

"Something's not right."

A second later, there was a horrible screeching sound that filled the train. Everyone stopped talking and clapped their hands over their ears, faces in a grimace.

"What IS that?" Harry bellowed.

"It's the brakes!" Neville shouted back. "We're slowing down!"

Never before had Hermione truly known what the words "screeching to a halt" sounded like. Now she knew, and she was sure she had been better off not knowing.

Ginny screamed as a trunk and a cage came crashing down on them, knocking Neville to the floor. Hedwig was hooting angrily in her cage still on the shelf, and Pigwidgeon shot out of his on the floor and started rocketing around the small cabin. Even Crookshanks, who was planted in Hermione's lap, had his claws out to their fullest extent—making Hermione wince from the pain as well as the noise.

The train was stopped.

Harry picked the trunk off a flattened Neville and shoved it back up.

Hermione peered out the window. Through the dark rain she could see Hogwarts in the distance…but the train had now stopped, and Hogsmeade Station was still a fair few miles ahead, past a large stretch of the Forbidden Forest…

"That's odd," she said. "We're not there yet and there's no reason for us to be stopping now. Unless—"

An old fear resurfaced and transformed itself in the pit of her gut as she remembered the last time the train had stopped before they got to Hogsmeade.

_Not good. Not good, not good, not good…_

But before she could voice her own thoughts—the lights went off.

_Oh no._


	4. Attack on the Hogwarts Express

**ATTACK ON THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS**

Harry's wand was out before he consciously knew what he was doing.

He slid open the compartment door and poked his head out. Everyone else in the adjoining cars either had their heads out or their whole bodies, and they were all talking to each other in loud voices. Some of the first years were starting to cry, and even those who had been on the train three years ago were starting to get upset.

"You don't think—"

"It's not—"

"_Dementors?"_

"Don't be foolish," said Hermione over the chatter. "They're miles away from here, guarding Azkaban, and you don't feel anything getting colder in here than it already is, do you?"

Harry turned around to find that she had stepped out of the compartment as well, her wand already lit. Belatedly, he looked around the hall and saw that everyone he could see who had their wands out and lit already was either a part of the D.A. or right next to someone who was.

"You know that's a load of codswallop, right?" he said in a low voice to Hermione. "If they've joined Voldemort they wouldn't be at Azkaban, they'd be wherever he sends them. This could very well be dementors."

"Of course I know that," she whispered. "But there's no reason everyone else needs to know it as well. The fewer people we have panicking the better."

Back in the cabin, Neville was peering out the window to the front of the train. "Harry…I see a few people out there, but they're definitely not dementors. They've got wands and they're talking—I can't make out what they're saying—"

He was interrupted by a woman's voice which was magically magnified to echo up and down the train.

"If you could all please calm down and listen closely, it would be much appreciated. There is no reason to panic. It appears that there is something blocking the railway tracks, which is preventing the Hogwarts Express from reaching the train station. As such, everyone will be walking the rest of the way—"

Murmurs broke out as the students looked at each other.

"Walking?"

"But it's got to be at least ten miles from here to the castle!"

"No, I think it's more like two—"

"But _walking?"_

"Are they sure that's safe with You-Know-Who about—?"

The voice continued as if it hadn't been interrupted, "—until we approach the station, where coaches will be waiting, as is usual, to pick all the students up and drop them off at Hogwarts' main doors. You will all be escorted by a number of trained Aurors, as well as your own Head Boy and Head Girl. Prefects, please help as many students as you can. Students, please exit the train in an orderly fashion and follow your superiors till you get to Hogsmeade Station. Your pets and luggage will be taken to the castle separately. Thank you."

There was an outbreak of talking and shouting in the corridor once more and a great deal of rummaging around as people stampeded to get to the doors first.

Harry and Hermione retreated into the compartment as people flooded past their door.

"I think it would be safer to wait until most everyone's out," Harry said, sitting back down.

Hermione shot him a look that would have come across as a glare if it weren't for the fact that Harry could see the fear hiding in her eyes. "Safer? Harry, this could all be a trap! What if it was Death Eaters who blocked the tracks and made it so the only option was for hundreds of students to walk to Hogwarts Castle—_you _being one of them? We have to be extremely careful—if anything, you should be in the middle of everyone else so it's harder for them to spot you and pick you off—"

"Hermione!" Harry half-shouted, cutting her off. "I'm not going to let everyone else cover me up and hang their own skin out to dry just so I won't be noticed! If it's my fault this is happening, there's no way in hell I'm going to let any of our classmates take the hits—"

"Besides," Ginny cut in. "I'm fairly sure half the Order's out there to escort everyone safely and make sure we all get there all right—especially you, Harry. I overheard Charlie and Tonks talking about something like this happening before we left."

"Something like—wait," said Harry. "Fred and George did say something about a 'treacherous journey'. They _knew _this was going to happen? But how—?"

"It doesn't matter! Harry, I know how you feel, but what do you think Dumbledore will say when he finds out that you're knowingly putting yourself in danger—" Hermione said, her voice rising.

Neville was watching the exchange, alarmed, but Luna seemed oblivious to the current conversation as her eyes followed Pigwidgeon's progress.

Harry was about to retort when he saw just how distressed Hermione was, and stopped.

All of a sudden, he remembered how upset she'd been last June when Harry was trying to convince her that his vision of Sirius being tortured was real.

He sighed.

"Hermione—look—I'm not putting myself in danger." He kept his voice low and reassuring. "It's like Ginny said, the Order knew this was going to happen. And it's like that witch said, there's going to be loads of trained Aurors to guard everyone and bring them to safety. And…well, isn't it the prefects' job to make sure everyone's out safe? I'm betting there'll be a bunch of them in the front and middle, but none of them are going to want to be the tail-end. We should…er…make sure everyone gets out all right."

Hermione looked at him, looking torn between Harry's safety and that of the rest of the students.

"Oh…all _right_. I just wish that you'd let Ron and me—" Hermione suddenly stopped and looked around.

"Harry…" she said. "Where's Ron?"

* * *

"Where'd that bloody weasel go—"

"Are we stopped? Why are we stopped?"

"Damn, we're there—"

"No, we're not, you idiot. Can't you see we're nowhere near the station—"

"I can't see anything, thanks to your knee—"

"Quit your yapping, you damn sixth-years, and find Weasley!"

"_Lumos!"_

A flickering wandlight filled the compartment, and the seventh year Rowle swore in satisfaction. "Thought you were being smart, did you?" he said, grabbing Ron out from under the seat.

"If I were smart, why would I hide under a _seat_?" Ron sneered. He was sure his face was flaming from humiliation right now, as well as from frustration. Who cared why the train was stopped as long as it took him away from these filthy gits…

Rowle kneed him in the groin, and Ron bit his lip hard to keep from uttering a sound.

"Hope you don't cry out for ol' Mummy," said Victoria Vaisey with a sneer. "We all know she can't afford anything, let alone _you._ She'd be better off without you. And if we leave her a piece big enough, your folks might be able to bargain it for a nice, new home. Perhaps a cardboard box—"

"SHUT UP!" Ron roared. Nott kicked him in the shins.

"Now the real fun begins," said Wilkes, his twisted face drawn into a sneer.

But before any such fun could be had, a voice sounded above the Slytherins' taunts, instructing the students to exit the train.

Urquhart swore.

"Come on," Nott scowled. "Leave him here. If we're lucky, the Death Eaters will finish him off. That's what they want anyway."

_What they want…_

Alarm bells rang in his head. But before he could do anything about that information, Rowle shoved Ron against the wall, cracking his head sharply on the window.

Ron felt a trickle of blood, and saw the wand that Nott held pointed straight at him.

"We're not finished with you," whispered Nott menacingly.

Ron barely remembered slipping to the floor and hearing the Slytherins seal the door shut on their way out before darkness clouded his vision.

* * *

"Come _on_—we have to find him—"

"I'm sure he's fine, Hermione—"

"Of course he's fine, why wouldn't he be?" she snapped. "I just want to find him so we don't get separated on the way to the castle, is all."

"Er—right—" said Harry hastily. He poked his head out of the compartment and looked down the corridors. "It looks like the coast is clear. Come on!"

Neville, Ginny, and Luna started piling out of the compartment, wands drawn, and joined the few D.A. members who had decided to stick behind with Harry.

As soon as the others were shot of the compartment, Hermione pulled him back. "I want you to take the Cloak, Harry."

"What? Hermione, I'm not—"

"Take it!" she pleaded. "Please, Harry? You don't have to put it on, but bring it just in case."

Harry glared at her before reaching up and rummaging through his trunk, stuffing the silvery Invisibility Cloak underneath his robes before hurrying out.

"Have any of you seen Ron?" he heard Ginny ask the others as he caught up with them.

"Last I saw he was headed to the loo—" said Terry Boot.

"Looked in a foul mood, too," agreed Dean Thomas.

"But that was ages ago!" Hermione cried. "You saw him come back, didn't you?"

They shook their heads.

"Oh, we're getting nowhere," Ginny sighed, frustrated. She shoved past the two boys and started down the corridor, looking in compartments and calling Ron's name.

"Ginny—wait—" said Harry, starting after her. "I don't think you should do that—what if a Death Eater hears you—"

But she ignored him, and he quickened his pace to keep up. He wasn't used to being the voice of reason for her, he realized.

Ginny called to him from farther down the corridor.

"Hey—Harry—I think I found something! The door won't budge, it's like it's been sealed shut! I think it's—_aaauuugghhh!"_

There was a blast and a shower of wall splinters and glass door fragments, and Ginny disappeared from view.

"GINNY!" Harry shouted. Fear sliced through his heart, and he broke into a run. He jumped over the debris and knelt beside Ginny, relieved to see she was picking herself up and glaring furiously into the compartment.

"Ow—ow—_ow!"_ she moaned. "I'm going to KILL him!"

"Kill who?"

"I'm sorry!" said a white-faced Ron in the compartment behind them. "I'm sorry! I was just trying to get the door open—I didn't see you—"

"Oh, really? Can you see me _now?" _she said sarcastically, smacking him atop the head. "You PRAT!"

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione pelted up behind them. "But—what were you doing in there? We were worried!"

"You were?" Ron perked up.

"You look like shite," remarked Harry.

He was right—there was blood trickling down Ron's forehead, and bruises were coming up on his arms.

"What happened?" said Harry. "It wasn't—"

"No, it wasn't Death Eaters," said Ron sullenly. "Just Slytherins. A gang of nasty, foul-mouthed gits…stunned me and cracked my head before locking me in here. And that was before they—"

He turned and saw Colin and Dennis Creevey looking at them shrewdly.

"Why don't you talk later," said Neville quietly, with a furtive glance. "Let's just get out of here. I don't like this."

"Don't be such a wimp, Longbottom," said Anthony Goldstein, rolling his eyes. "We're all protected. Nothing's going to happen."

"I wouldn't say that if I were you," said Harry, leading the way back down the corridor. "Because 'nothing' always does."

"And you know what they say. Better to be safe than sorry," Terry Boot agreed.

"Yeah, and you know what else they say? It's better to have _been_ sorry than to not have been at _all_," Ron joked.

Beside Harry, Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes.

"About time," said Padma Patil as they caught up with her, Luna, and another Ravenclaw named Su Li.

Terry and Anthony walked ahead of them with the two Ravenclaw girls, and Dean pulled Neville aside to ask him something as they walked. Luna drifted ahead of them, pulling _The Quibbler _out from her cloak pocket and studying it once more. This left Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny alone, which suited them just fine, as it gave Ron a chance to tell them what had happened in the Slytherin compartment. At first, Harry could see Ron's obvious embarrassment about the encounter. But as the tale wore on, Ron seemed to enjoy Ginny's gasps and Hermione's clucks of sympathy and the story became infinitely more detailed.

"—so when I woke up, I just heard this silence, you know? And that spooked me a bit because the way those gits were acting, Death Eaters were coming to finish everyone off, and I thought you lot had left me behind—"

"_I_ would have if it meant I wouldn't have had to get blown on my arse," muttered Ginny, still sore about earlier.

"—and I knew what they'd done to the door, so I thought about what to do, and then it hit me! Remember back in the Department of Mysteries when we were trying to keep those thugs out of the planet room, Gin? Well, Luna saving you is where I got the idea to—you know—blow you onto your—er—arse—"

"Well then!" she snapped. "Now that I know the whole story that makes it _loads_ better!"

"Wait, what was that boy's name?" asked Hermione, with an air of trying to keep the peace. "The Gryffindor boy?"

"Er, Lilier…no, Daisier…perhaps Columbine…no! It was Rosier, they called him. But I don't remember hearing that name before—"

"Hang on…" said Harry, recalling the Pensieve and his trip through Dumbledore's memories back in fourth year. "I do! He's the one who took out a chunk of Moody's nose when he was captured, I think. He's a Death Eater."

"Harry," Ron scoffed. "I hardly think a student could have done all _that._"

"Not him, you git! Evan Rosier. You said Rowle told him to follow after his uncle? That's probably him."

"But why would they Sort a Death Eater's nephew into Gryffindor?" said Ron.

"Wait—are you two talking about _Tobias _Rosier?" asked Ginny, catching up with them. "Tobias Rosier, the same boy who can't go a day without pranking the Slyther—"

Her words were cut off by an explosion.

The four Gryffindors whirled around, wands out.

Death Eaters materialized out of the shadows.

* * *

There was nothing else for it.

They ran. Fast and furiously, through the trees. Green, purple, blue lights shot past them, narrowly missing on more than one occasion.

Hermione's heart pounded. She never felt more scared in her life. She saw figures ahead of her that must have been Harry, Ron and Ginny with their longer legs and their muscular Quidditch-playing bodies that she was oh so very jealous of right now.

She tried to cast several curses behind her as she ran, but they made her slow down. And there was almost zero aiming involved.

Ron's terrified face glanced back at her.

"_Hermione!" _

The worry for her was evident in his eyes. She was about thirty yards behind the others but she was running as fast as she could—

She looked behind her to throw another curse. Her explosion ripped a tree out of the ground, slaying two Death Eaters. But the other one following her shot out a hot pink streak that hit her head.

A stab of pain sliced across her eyes—she gasped and lost her footing—

She fell to the forest floor, scraping hands and knees, rolling and skidding to a stop.

With hazy eyes, she looked up dazed to see Harry and Ginny's forms sprinting away—they hadn't noticed she fell—but where was—

Arms scooped her up and half-dragged her several steps before she could tell her feet to move—

"_Ron!"_

"Run, Hermione! They're coming! RUN!"

Hermione stumbled along with him, clutching onto him for dear life. She didn't know what spell she was cursed with, but she couldn't see anything. The darkness grew blacker and bolder and she could barely make out trees. Ron shot spell after spell behind them, but she didn't know if they were curses or defenses. The crashing sounds behind them were growing louder—

They came out in a clearing filled with long, thick green grass but no trees. Their cover was lost, and they both knew it. They ran harder to get to the other side, back into the safetey of the trees, when—

Suddenly Ron groaned in pain, then collapsed, dragging Hermione to the ground with him. Breath caught in her chest, she threw up a shield charm around them first before turning his body over—she couldn't see him—all she could do was feel with her hands.

"Ron!" She gasped, praying fervently. _Please don't be dead, Ron, please don't die…_

Curses ricocheted off her shield that was surrounding them like a bubble. It held.

Her eyesight was gone. She couldn't see a thing. But her fingers grazing over his face told her the one thing she knew already to be true. His eyes were closed. He was unconscious.

She felt for signs of life, her heart frozen in fear.

Was he—

She felt his chest move. She almost sobbed in relief. He was alive—

"_Rennervate_!" She whispered to his chest. No movement. She tried a few more countercurses, knowing she was running out of time. But nothing.

She tried them again on her eyes, and it worked. Everything became much more clear. The freckles standing out on his pale deathly skin, his chest rising and falling under his white school uniform shirt—

Casting several more general healing charms, she was unsure of how else to help him when he honestly just looked like he was sleeping—

There was an explosion in the ground next to her. Her shield charm cracked beneath the force of the blasting curse, then disintegrated. Time had run out. She stood and faced the man approaching, wand out, shooting out spells, and a death glare waiting.

The Death Eater was masked.

His curse was followed by two more, and she dodged them with her own deflectors.

"He doesn't look well, does he?" said the Death Eater, striding closer into the clearing.

Hermione refused his offer to look at Ron, knowing full well to be on her guard. "What did you do to him?" She snarled, blocking three more streams of light from his wand tip.

There were loud shouts from much farther away in the forest. Hermione worried for Harry and Ginny and the others.

"I may have—_flipendo—_messed with his blood traitor magic a—_flamos—_tiny—_incarcerous—_bit— _CRUCIO!" _he hissed.

She blocked his fire hex and binding spell just in time, but the Cruciatus Curse broke through her already battered shield.

Screams ripped through her throat as the curse electrocuted her body.

Hermione fell.


	5. His Hermione

**HIS HERMIONE**

He didn't know how this was happening. They should be at the school by now, just pulling into the Hogsmeade Station. They should be climbing into the carriages pulled by the thestrals, with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna all remarking how they could see the deathly creatures now ever since the Department of Mysteries.

Not running for their lives.

Not throwing curses and dodging Dark magic.

The school year hadn't even begun.

"Harry!" Ginny gasped beside him. "Where's Ron? Where's Hermione?"

Harry jerked to a stop, scanning the forest wildly for his best friends. They weren't there—_they weren't there—_

A spell shot towards him, and Ginny pulled him behind a tree in the knick of time. She shot back several of her own and he joined her. All the while trying to ignore the screaming in his head at the thought of Ron and Hermione being taken by the Death Eaters, or worse—

"I have to go back—"

"_No!"_

"_I am going back for them, Ginny!" _Harry hissed. "I'll double back and stun them. Listen, we're almost to the Station. The Aurors and Order must be here trying to help fight the Death Eaters off from the other students. They will be there. They can protect you—"

"I don't need protecting—" said Ginny, rather savagely.

But it was too late. He ignored her hissed whispers and took off the way they came. After he was gone from her view, he threw the Cloak around his shoulders and lifted the hood over his head.

In no time at all, he saw two masked Death Eaters coming his way. They were striding towards him, shooting off the occasional spell. Oddly enough, they didn't look like they were aiming to injure where they thought Harry and Ginny ran to. In fact, they didn't look like they were aiming at all.

Harry stunned the one closest. As he was behind the other Death Eater, he didn't notice at all. Harry ran forward and bound the fallen one with ropes before ripping off his mask.

Selwyn.

The other Death Eater was drawing closer to where Harry left Ginny. Quickly he followed, sending a not-so-well-placed stunner after the burly man, who whirled around and sent off several nasty jinxes wildly, but they landed nowhere near Harry.

Harry stopped him with the full body-bind. Then he muttered "_Incarcerous!_" And— "_Expelliarmus!"_

Just in case.

That done, he took off running to a clearing off in the distance where he saw light jetting back and forth, praying with all his might that Ron and Hermione were still standing.

And then he heard screaming.

_Hermione!_

What color was left on his face drained completely, and his step faltered. Her voice rent the night from hundreds of meters away and he knew with every fiber of his being that she was the most important thing. Getting to her was more crucial than breathing, than living, than existing.

He felt like he stumbled more than ran to the clearing, where he saw a masked Death Eater standing over her, wand trained. Ron lay next to her on the ground, unmoving, as she writhed in pain.

Harry saw red.

* * *

When Ron awoke, he thought he was being tortured. Everything was on fire, starting with his eardrums which felt like they were going to burst from the vibrations of the high-pitched screams. Were they his screams? No, they were—

At once his eyes snapped open, the black, clouded night high above him.

Hermione's voice filled his senses and he snapped his head trying to find her amidst the foggy haze surrounding his brain. His fingers curled around her hand, balled tight in a fist much smaller than his own.

The Death Eater saw his movement. His wand stayed on Hermione's form, but his eyes focused on Ron. He withdrew another wand from his cloak, and trained it on Ron.

Ron barely had a moment to stare in disbelief at the two wands the Death Eater held in both hands, before he cast a second Cruciatus.

In that moment, Ron felt something dark, something poisonous, and excruciating beyond all measure.

And then the agony intensified and all thought fled from his mind.

His roar of pain rose in sync with her scream, filling the air around them in horrifying harmony. Her fingers clenched his frantically as soon as she heard his voice. Her screams mingled with his while their torture continued on.

But as suddenly as the pain began—it stopped.

His body kept pulsing as he rode out the aftershocks of the Cruciatus Curse. Hermione beside him on the ground kept shivering from the same, her screams died down to an awful whimper.

But the Death Eater was no longer standing over them, nor were his two wands trained upon them.

Dimly, Ron could hear fighting coming from all around them. Other voices were crowding the atmosphere, spells soaring over their heads. But down on the ground, through the light sprinkling rain around them, Ron could only see her.

Hermione.

His Hermione.

Her eyes were opened and glossy, reflecting the night around them. She looked at him as he stared right back, tears trickling out and trailing down her face to the wet grass beneath her. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, but not even a croak came out.

She wasn't okay.

But she was alive.

They both were.

And then the spells stopped.

"RON!"

_"HERMIONE!"_

Arms grabbed his and hoisted him up. His legs immediately buckled, but more arms surrounded him and held on tight. His eyes were trained on Hermione though, as she was lifted up too and held up by Tonks and Charlie.

"Ron—_Ron—_"

He turned to the voice, recognizing George and Bill as the ones supporting him.

"Merlin, you gave us a right scare," whispered Fred, crushing his bones in a fierce hug.

"Th-think you can stand?" Bill asked, his face whiter than Ron had ever seen it.

Their arms left his for a moment, and he found he could still hold his own. Things were hazy still, but he saw that with his four older brothers and Ginny, Hermione, and Tonks, there was also Harry standing by Kingsley, talking to him in hushed whispers. And—

"D-D-Dad_?"_

His dad came over and enveloped him in an embrace only a father could give. Calm and peace overwhelmed Ron and he just knew everything was going to be all right.

They were safe.

"Where's...the...where…" Ron stuttered. His tongue wasn't working. No, his brain...

"Death Eater?" said Dad darkly. "He Disapparated. There were Anti-Apparition Wards around the entire area. Apparently they didn't want any of us coming and spoiling their fun. We knew about the target on the Hogwarts tracks, but not about this…never about this... they completely warded off the area, it took us ages to break through—"

"We heard Hermione screaming as soon as we did," an ashen Fred continued. "Good thing too, I reckon we wouldn't have been able to tell where you lot were if it hadn't been for that—"

"And then...then we heard you, and..._Merlin_…" George trailed off, the horror written on his face.

"As soon as we arrived, we saw Harry dueling with the last of them. But the death-eating bastard took one glance at us and just Disapparated. Prolly realized he was outnumbered," said Fred.

They all turned to look at Harry, who was walking over to join them. "I took out a few others," he said in explanation. "Kingsley's just dispatched a few Aurors to their location. I reckon they're still out cold, but—Ron—I thought you were—"

The unsurety in Harry's voice as he talked, the hesitation as he stared at Ron, the devastated look on his face told Ron everything. And then Harry was there, hugging him, and Ron was hugging him back belatedly. No words needed to be spoken as they just stood there with their arms around each other. They tried anyway.

"I didn't—you—are you—"

"Er, I…" Ron choked out. "Yeah...I'm…I'm okay..."

It wasn't much.

"I thought you were—"

"I'm glad you—"

"...yeah."

"Yeah."

But it was enough.

Ron didn't even know the last time he had done this with his best friend. They pulled apart rather reluctantly.

"_Ron!"_

A blur of red hair collided into him, and he briefly recognized his little sister before her hair skewed his vision. Ginny was rather tearful and shaky and started blabbering about how scared she was and when she heard him screaming she thought he was dying.

His ears reddened a bit at this, but his grip just tightened.

Ginny finally pulled away and gave Harry a hug. Ron averted his eyes at this, only one person on his mind at the moment.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, his eyes immediately trying to find her.

"She's all right," said Tonks, hearing him. She brought Hermione, who still needed help walking, over to them. Hermione definitely looked the worse for wear. Her brown curls, so neat and orderly before, now hung almost dejectedly around her face. Her robes were torn and muddy, her white uniform shirt was bloody and ripped, and her gray tights were riddled with holes.

"I'm fine," she whispered, noticing their stares. "Honestly."

She gave him a half-smile but he could see through it. He walked over to her, forgetting that his brothers were even there at all, and wrapped his arms around her. He wasn't the only one—Harry came over and did the same—and they stood there for several moments, just the three of them.

_This feels right. _

_It feels like…_

_Home._

* * *

In all, there were two Death Eaters dead and four captured, which was a great victory for the Order. But the Death Eater that cast the Cruciatus with two wands simultaneously—none of them could even fathom how that was possible, or the amount of magic needed for such a feat—had fled.

If Harry thought there'd be more Order activity after what just happened, though, he was wrong. They dispatched the Anti-Apparition wards that the Death Eaters set up, then had to say goodbye and take the prisoners back to the Ministry.

Ron and Hermione were given foul-smelling potions to help combat the lingering cramps the Cruciatus Curse left behind, as well as to give them energy to get back to the castle. Glamour charms fixed their messed-up hair and bloody clothes, healing charms fixed the scratches, and sewing charms fixed the riddled holes. After Bill and Tonks looked them both over and declared them fit for travel, they left with the twins.

"The four of you will be safe for now," said Arthur Weasley as his older sons all Disapparated. "You will have an escort to help you get back. But you must go straight to the Hospital Wing—"

They at once protested.

"But we'll miss the Sorting—!"

"Dad, come on, I'm starving—"

"Please, Mr. Weasley, we're fine really…"

"I don't want to hear about it," said Mr. Weasley sternly. "You need to be checked over by a medic, Ron and Hermione. We can't take any chances when it comes to your health. We don't know what spell cursed your eyesight, Hermione. Or the one that knocked you out, Ron. There may be some lingering effects. Now, your escort should be along any moment—"

A wand lit up behind them.

"Ah, Hestia! Just in time," said Mr. Weasley.

An unknown witch revealed herself as tall and slender with long dark curls and a rather mischievous smile. She wore robes of a dark burgundy and laced-up boots that matched her conical hat of deep brown leather.

"Hey, I know you!" Ron said. "You're…you're Whatsherface from the Order. You hang around with Lupin and Tonks and them."

Her eyebrows raised a little, her lingering eyes left Hermione where they'd been fixated and glanced over to Ron.

"Well-spotted," she said in a tone of voice that left Harry unsure about whether she was impressed with Ron for remembering her, or slightly snubbed that he referred to her as "Whatsherface".

"Name is Hestia Jones—or Professor Jones, if you will," she corrected herself with a slight head nod. "And I know who you all are, of course."

A light bulb clicked on in Harry's brain. He had seen Hestia Jones before, last year at the Dursleys', as a part of the Advance Guard that escorted him to Grimmauld Place. He remembered she had looked a lot brighter then, and cheerier…although that could be because they were now standing in a darkly lit path under much more dire circumstances.

"Right, well, I must be off. Be safe, you four." Mr. Weasley hugged them all in turn, then Disapparated.

"Are you lot all right? Nasty gang you ran into back there. Let's get going," Professor Jones stated, leading the way back to the train.

"Stay close," she called out to them. "It isn't safe!"

Harry and Ginny hurried after her. Ron and Hermione's pace was much slower, and the others waited for them.

Professor Jones looked to her right and flashed her wand red for a second. Harry swiveled his head to where she was looking, and saw an answering red glow in the darkness. He peered and tried to see who it was, but saw only a shadow slinking back into the darkness.

"Who was—" he began.

"Never mind that," she said sternly. "It doesn't matter."

Harry looked at her, trying to read her features, fear and uncertainty growing in his stomach. His grip tightened over his wand.

_If that was a Death Eater…if she was trying to alert their side, give them a clue and tell them that she had Harry Potter in her custody…if she is a spy for Voldemort and was placed in the Order because Dumbledore thought he could trust her…_

His mind was whirring and the knot of dread in his gut tightened. The older witch's face was impassive, he couldn't tell whether the thoughts running through her head were those of a servant of the Dark Lord—thinking about how pleased her master would be if she grabbed hold of Harry Potter and Apparated to Voldemort's side—or whether she was simply thinking about getting him and the last of the students inside of Hogwarts safely and being able to eat at the start-of-term feast…

"I think we're the last ones…" Ron trailed, noting the quiet, dark, empty compartments they walked beside.

"You are," said Hestia Jones. "Unless there's something you know that I don't? I'm supposed to be the last escort for the lot of you."

She brought her wand up again, and Harry tensed, his grip on his own getting tighter. But she only whispered the incantation he knew far too well, and a large, silver animal erupted from her wand and ran off down the path in front of them before Harry could clearly see what its form was.

She caught him watching her. "I understand you were able to make one at thirteen. You've certainly got a leg up on your father in that regard, and that's hard to do."

Harry blinked at the mention of his father, but didn't say anything. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione kept looking from Harry to their new professor, wondering what was going on, but Harry didn't bother to give an answer.

A silver form came gliding up to them and stopped in front of Professor Jones, but it wasn't the large animal that had left her wand moments before. She reached out to touch the raven Patronus. It cawed irritably and flew off without further notice.

"All right, the way is clear. If you lot don't mind, we need to be getting a move on," she said quietly. "We're being guarded, but they can't hold the wards for much longer. Come now."

They followed her down the path, matching her brisk stride with their own. The lights weren't on anymore in the train compartments, Harry now noticed, which succeeded in making them safer under the cover of darkness.

The ground was wet and muddy and his feet squelched when he walked. He wished he had boots like Professor Jones instead of his old trainers that were practically falling apart—he made a mental note to buy some new ones first Hogsmeade trip that came up.

Harry glanced over at Hermione, noticing she was lagging more than usual.

"You all right?" He asked, voice low in concern. Ron heard and hung back as well.

Hermione glanced up, and smiled brightly. It didn't quite reach her eyes however. "Of course! I fixed my clothes so they look good as new. And Tonks said we should get there just in time for the Sorting, so that's a relief…I'm rather starving, really, I wonder what they'll be serving..."

He and Ron could both tell she was rambling—she tended to do that when she was nervous or hiding something. But neither of them pushed her, and just matched their long strides to her slower one.

Harry shivered as they walked, and pulled his cloak tighter around him. The air was frosty for a September night, probably left over from the rain and hail from before.

"What's that?" Ginny asked, pointing at the silvery corner that was now poking out of Harry's sleeve.

Belatedly, he remembered, _She doesn't know about the Cloak_.

"Nothing," he said hastily and stuffed the Cloak down further. But Ginny continued to stare at him shrewdly as they walked down the path that everyone else had taken, alongside the train tracks.

Something started niggling at Harry's mind. _Stuffing. Stuffing my Cloak, no, stuffing something else—_

He grabbed a hold of the back of Ron's robes and pulled him back, away from the others.

"Oy!"

"Ron—I've just remembered—"

"Gerroff me!"

"Shut up and listen! We weren't the last ones off the train!"

That got Ron to calm down.

"Ron, Malfoy's still back there! He was stunned, remember? Him and Crabbe and Goyle—"

"What? Harry, I'm not—"

"Six people stunned them! That much power could knock someone out for a week. They've got to still be there, and the Order wouldn't know about it because we stuffed them in the luggage rack—"

Ron blinked. "So, what, you reckon we should tell Professor Jones—?"

Harry hesitated.

"No," Ron said shortly.

"But doesn't that seem…I mean, he's still a student…"

"No," Ron said firmly. "Harry, his _dad_ was at the Department of Mysteries! We almost died because of Malfoy's father! Think about it. If there are Death Eaters hanging around here, do you think they would try to off three known Death Eaters' sons? They'd probably just pick them up, dust them off, and send them running to school like good little boys. We're not going to risk our own necks by going back and getting them. I'm _not _going to do that for a Slytherin! Especially not after what they did to me."

Ron was right, Harry knew. Malfoy and his two cronies weren't in any danger being left back there. But it just didn't seem right to leave them like that.

"Fine," he said. "But as soon as we get back, we're telling someone. As much as I hate him and wish he would lock himself up in one of those foul dungeons and toss the key in the lake…he's…well, I mean, he's still one of Dumbledore's students, and…well, I reckon Dumbledore would want to know."

Ron stared at him. "You're becoming far too much like Hermione for your own good."

Harry smiled, relieved that Ron wasn't adamantly insisting they do nothing. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I'm still deciding."

They hurried to catch up with the others.

When Harry and Ron caught up with Professor Jones, Hermione, and Ginny, they tried not to look so guilty and more...nonchalant.

"Professor?" Hermione was saying. "If you don't mind my asking, which subject will you be teaching?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," the older witch answered. "Just for this year, though. Wish I could say it'll be for longer, but I know full well the curse on this job, and I'd rather be walking out of these gates next summer than be carried out on a stretcher, in shackles, or in a casket…"

"Curse?" said Harry, joining in on the conversation in time to hear that part. "What curse?"

Professor Jones laughed lightly. "Tell me, Harry, how many professors for this post have you had since you started Hogwarts?"

"Six." Harry didn't even have to think about it. "Counting you, of course."

"Right. And can you guess how many we had when I was at Hogwarts?"

"Seven," said Ginny, catching on.

"Got it in one. I'd bet you my mounted broomstick that if you were to ask everyone who's attended Hogwarts every seven years from now till around fifty years ago, they'll say the same thing," Professor Jones said in a grim voice, talking low. The other four had to lean in a bit to hear what she was saying.

"The job is jinxed," she continued. "Has been for some time now. It's been quite a job for Professor Dumbledore to have to come up with someone new and perfectly adequate every single year. Mind you, there are some who come back every few years or so—like that Quirinus Quirrell, incidentally. Big mistake that was…"

Harry stiffened at the memory and he saw Ron and Hermione exchange looks in the corner of his eye. Ginny looked nonplussed, not having been there the night when the other three went to the third-floor corridor and tried to stop Quirrell and Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher's Stone.

Something nagged at Harry's mind. He tried to dismiss it at first, but he realized by its persistence that it was too important to simply forget.

_Before my first year, in Diagon Alley…Hagrid and I were there at Gringotts, getting the Philosopher's Stone, only I didn't know it at the time. But someone else knew it was there. Someone else sneaked into Gringotts and broke into vault 713 and tried to take it. Only it wasn't there. It wasn't there, it was at the castle…at Hogwarts…where Voldemort sneaked in and tried to steal the Stone…_

And then it clicked. He looked up in horror, realization setting in.

_What was it that Hagrid had said that year? "Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe—'cept maybe Hogwarts."_

_Voldemort was there in June in the Ministry. Voldemort was there that day in Gringotts. Voldemort spent almost a year in Hogwarts…_

It was the three places. The three places that everyone said were the safest. That everyone said was impossible for anyone to break into. For anyone to come waltzing in, even the Darkest wizard of the century. For _Voldemort_ to enter. But now…

_We're not safe here. We're none of us safe here. Hogwarts is the one place where we're supposed to be safe from Voldemort. It was inevitable for the Ministry and Gringotts to fail us. But for Hogwarts…for Dumbledore…_

Dumbledore had trusted Quirrell. He had to have, or he wouldn't have let him teach, especially with Harry there. If he had known that he was talking to a man with Voldemort on the back of his head…if he had known that when he escorted the DADA professor into his office that he was escorting Voldemort there…

_And Moody. Professor Moody was Crouch Jr. the entire time, and Dumbledore never even knew. And don't even get me started on Snape…_

All of which begged the question: Was it wise to trust everyone that Dumbledore did?

Harry tried to tell himself that it was because he had seen the Headmaster's vulnerability with such clear eyes the year before. If he had learned anything, it was that people made mistakes. And those mistakes came from the wrong choice, like Voldemort's decision to target him instead of Neville when they were born. And even if you were over a hundred years old like Dumbledore, the choices you made couldn't always be the best ones.

But in truth, Harry wasn't trying to look after himself more because he didn't trust Dumbledore's judgment. It was because he knew in his heart that something might happen to take not only Dumbledore's judgment away entirely, but everything else that it made up…

"Knut for your thoughts," said a voice beside him.

Harry jumped.

Professor Jones was walking beside him, her long cloak swishing in the cold, wet breeze. Harry wondered why he hadn't noticed her there before, and realized in the same instant that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had moved a few yards ahead. They were still well within the reach of their new professor's watchful eye, but not too close that they would be able to hear whatever conversation Professor Jones had in mind.

"I saw you lagging behind and thought you could use someone to talk to," the older witch said quietly. "No one your age should ever have to look the way you have been looking lately."

"Yeah. Except that I have been," Harry said shortly.

They walked in silence for a moment. Harry supposed he shouldn't have snapped at her, but it seemed better than the alternative. His insides were still frozen at the chain of thoughts he had followed up. He didn't even know her…how could he know to trust her? She was in the Order, sure. But then again, so was Snape and he wasn't the best of confidants.

_Dumbledore's word alone isn't enough for me anymore,_ he realized. _I have to find out for myself whether someone is trustworthy or not. For my own safety._

As if she was reading his thoughts—which she could have been, Harry thought guardedly—she spoke up.

"Harry…I don't expect you to trust me. Goodness knows, if you did this early on in the game, I would have been surprised—and disappointed. You've earned your right to distrust people first and ask questions later. I understand."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn't finished.

"But whatever you think of me, that is no excuse to disregard anything I may teach you in class," she said, her voice turning sharper. "Believe it or not, Professor Dumbledore hired me for a reason. Now, of all times, he would never have chosen me if he didn't think I could teach you what you'll be needing for what is to come. Are we clear?"

Harry closed his mouth and nodded. "Yes, Professor."

He tried not to let the wave of guilt overcome him too much. She was right, on both counts. It was all right for him to second-guess the headmaster…but not until he knew as much of the situation as Dumbledore did.

_I don't have to trust her right away…_

_But then, no one's asking me to._

Harry heard Hermione gasp as they rounded the bend, coming into view of the Hogsmeade Station, and his head jerked up.

They could now see exactly why the train had stopped.

Right in front of Hogsmeade Station, a huge crater marked the middle of the place where the tracks should be. Harry saw pieces of gleaming metal in the bottom of the hole. The rest of the rails on either side of the hole were pulled back and twisted unnaturally.

"What _did_ that?" Ginny asked.

"A curse," answered the professor. "A very powerful curse."

They all shivered.


	6. Hogwarts, A History

**HOGWARTS: A HISTORY**

There were no more thestral-drawn carriages apparently. Harry was a bit let down at this—ever since they had ridden the kind, ugly dragon-things last spring, he rather thought they were cute.

They rounded the bend and came to the tall iron-black gates that led to the Hogwarts grounds. Two statues of winged boars stood on either side of the gates, and beneath the metal-wrought Hogwarts crest that was set in the very middle of both gates, the school motto—

"'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus'," Harry read aloud, grimacing slightly at the first word.

"'Never tickle a sleeping dragon'," Professor Jones translated, seeing him look at it.

Harry nodded. _Of course, 'Draco' means dragon, like the constellation…much better than knowing we have Malfoy's name on the gate—he struts around as if he owns the place enough as it is…_

Something Hestia Jones had said earlier suddenly came back to him. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny walked ahead of them, and he hung back to talk to her.

"Er—professor—" he said haltingly. "I was wondering—"

He paused.

"Well, spit it out, Harry. You and your father…always beating around the bush…"

"That's what I was going to ask," said Harry. "Did you know my father?"

Hestia Jones chuckled aloud. "I only spent seven years with him—well, ten if you were to count the three years we spent in Auror training. He and Sirius could always get a smile out of me—whether it was getting drunk at the Hog's Head and running through the entrance hall stark-naked, or pulling those pranks on old Moody when he was trying to teach us how to move stealthily…" she chuckled at the memory.

"Oh?" said Harry, trying to sound casual. "So you were…close?"

"Quite a bit, yeah…but it was your mother I was closest to. Lived in the same dorm with her for seven years. She would always come ranting to me about your father—it was always Potter this and Potter that…but I knew they'd end up together. They were too sweet when they weren't arguing. And she did always admire him…in her own way…"

Harry hardly dared to let his feet touch the ground—it seemed too loud, and he didn't want to miss anything. Without even knowing it, his frostiness towards Professor Jones began to melt away.

She glanced sideways at him. "Hungry for more details?"

"Oh no, I was just curious," he said, nonchalant. He wanted to hear more, but didn't want her to think he was starved for it.

He reluctantly changed the subject. "So…how did Professor Dumbledore come to pick you as our Defense teacher?"

She studied him. "Well…when I was in my seventh year, I was one of five who got the highest marks—not just in our O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. exams, but out of our entire generation. The five of us could have done anything, become anyone, by the time we graduated. One of us, actually, became second only to the Minister three years in. The other two married and became Aurors for a time. And the other became a professor here."

Harry furrowed his brow. Something she said was niggling at his memory, but he wasn't sure why…

"I wanted desperately to be an Auror and help out with the War. It was at its worst during this time, you understand. I worked hard for three years, and then right when we were about to graduate from Auror training…your parents died. Voldemort fell, the War was over with, and I…I couldn't do it. I couldn't handle the fall-out.

"We were the best of friends at Hogwarts, you see. There was the seven of us: James, Sirius, Remus and Peter, of course, had their own secrets and adventures they went on without us…and then there was Lily, Aletha Freeman, and myself. Lily and James were always together, and Letha fancied Sirius, and Remus and I were very good friends. Peter always seemed to be left out. After your parents died, we were all devastated. As a group of friends, we broke up—Sirius went to Azkaban for supposedly killing them; Peter was believed to have been blown to pieces, but was actually in hiding; Remus became a recluse; Letha had a child and I never saw her again…and a big part of me died with them. So I quit.

"I transferred to another part of the Ministry and worked there for a few years. I became head of my department soon after—mind you, this was before the Ministry was reorganized into just seven departments and we were all reassigned. But after a while, I started noticing how corrupt the Ministry was becoming, and a lot of the members in it. I stopped caring how hard I worked and how much my pay increased, and a few years later it didn't even matter any more," Professor Jones said, her face curiously blank.

"It was after the Umbridge fiasco that Dumbledore came to me with a job offer. 'Teach at Hogwarts for a year,' he told me, 'and you may find during the course of it that you are being made the student, not they.'" She flashed a smile at Harry. "Who can refuse the Headmaster when he comes calling?"

Harry nodded. "Who were the other four?"

"Excuse me?"

"The other four who graduated with you. You said one worked for the Minister, one worked for Dumbledore, and two became Aurors. Who were they?" he said.

"Ah…well, two of them were your parents. Edgar Bones was an old friend of mine. He was one of the younger brothers of Amelia Bones. Before she became Minister she was Head of the DMLE. That was the position that he held in his day, before he died."

"Edgar Bones…" Harry mused aloud. "Wasn't he murd—"

"Yes," Professor Jones said shortly. "He was murdered in the first war by Rabastan Lestrange, along with his wife and two children. With the position he held, he never stood a chance. He was a sitting target."

"With his…" Harry said, starting to feel sick.

_With his wife and two children? Lestrange couldn't have just killed him in an alley with no one to see, but he had to watch the Death Eater murder his wife and kids as well?_

"It was his son's birthday party, but since they were in hiding only his family could be there…" Professor Jones' voice sounded far away as she recanted the past. "Amelia couldn't make it, but his brothers Douglas and Hector were there with Doug's wife and kid. And then the Death Eaters showed up, and the none of them stood a chance. They had to watch Lestrange kill Edgar's wife and children first. It was on pure luck that Hector made it out alive, with Doug's daughter Susie. Edgar fought Lestrange to the death, and after he fell, they tried to finish off Douglas and his wife. That was when the Aurors showed up. They were able to save the wife, but it was too late to save Doug. He still remains in a coma."

Harry stared stonily ahead as they rounded the lake. He knew that Edgar Bones had died, but he didn't know how or who else had been murdered with him. And Douglas Bones…

_Susan Bones' father,_ he realized. _She was there that night…she just barely escaped with her life…and lost her mother in the process._

Was this war never going to end? Would he forever be hearing the stories of people who lost their loved ones to Voldemort and his Death Eaters? Would there ever come a time when he didn't look at a classmate and wonder if they had seen their father murdered, or their sister tortured?

It was just too much to handle. It had been too much to handle since he was eleven and learning that his parents had not died in a car crash. But each year it became worse and worse, and every time he stood up against Voldemort, he had a bigger burden to carry. He had thought a year and a half ago after he came back from the graveyard and Voldemort's rebirthing party that things couldn't possibly get any worse than that. But then he had to live through his decision to go the Department of Mysteries and the consequences that came from that. It was then that he wondered—if he had known just what he was getting into when Hagrid first told him he was a wizard…would he still have wanted it?

He thought he would have. But now…he wasn't so sure.

_I nearly died in my first year. First in the Forbidden Forest…then again with Quirrell and the mirror. I nearly died trying to keep Voldemort from getting the Stone…and for what? Sure he didn't get the Stone…sure he stopped drinking unicorn blood…sure he left Hogwarts alone for two years. But really, all I did was delay the inevitable. I stopped him from getting immortal life, but…_

_Fat load of good that did us, anyhow,_ he thought bitterly. _Voldemort still came back. Only now it's worse because he has his own body and a wand and he's not sitting around on his arse, biding his time and waiting for something to happen. And now that the wizarding world knows he's out there…_

_He's not going to be tiptoeing around anymore. He's going to strike, as soon as he can, whenever he can, there's going to be nothing standing in his way now…_

But that wasn't true, he remembered. His words from only a few months ago rose into his head.

_"So…so does that mean that…that one of us has got to kill the other one…in the end?"_

Then Dumbledore's voice answered his own in a way that made it seem as if the weight of the world rested in that one simple word. _"Yes."_

_It's all up to me,_ Harry thought now. _I am the one thing standing in the way between Voldemort and what he wants. Me…no one else…and he's going to stop at nothing to get me out of the way. Whether it's by making me think someone I love is in trouble and drawing me to where he wants me, or stopping the train before we get to the one place he can't get me. He'll do anything…none of my friends are safe, not even at school…and instead of going to classes and being worried about whether we'll win the Quidditch Cup or not, I have to worry about who he's going to go after next. Who he's going to torture and kill to get closer to me._

_Because in the end…it's just going to be me and him. No one else can stop him, no one else can save everyone from him. It's just me. It's all up to me…_

He barely noticed they were almost to the castle by now. The numerous towers rose against the black night ominously, twinkling lights practically dancing in the windows.

They had been silent for the past five minutes, both lost in thought, when Professor Jones cleared her throat.

She regarded him for a long moment before she spoke. "Harry, may I be blunt with you?"

He looked up at her and was drawn back by the ferocity of her gaze.

"You are _not_ alone, Harry," she said, her voice low. "No matter what you go through, no matter who you're with…you're not alone in this. You have the entire wizarding world behind you, your friends at your side every step of the way, the Order here to guard you and watch your back…and you have Dumbledore to guide you. You may think whatever you will of the situation, but don't you dare think for one second that you're alone in this."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. Whatever he expected her to say, it certainly wasn't this.

"This world is all of ours, you know. Voldemort is a threat to _all_ of us. You're not the only one he's ever targeted, so don't you dare start thinking that you are."

"I'm not—" he started angrily.

"Hear me out first, Harry," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Your mother was my best friend, and your father nearly so. They fought against Voldemort until the very end, and they're still fighting even now…through you! You can't fight this war alone, and just because you have the power to stop Voldemort, does not mean you have the _might_.

"Alone, you're next to defenseless against him. But with your friends and your teachers and Dumbledore and the Order helping you…_you will win!_ Just know, that with all of us behind you, you can do it. But if you try to go this alone…taking the high road because guilt tells you that everyone else is going to die and it'll be your fault…you're not going to get very far, and that's a fact."

They reached the oak doors, but she stopped in front of them and looked at him. "It's like what Dumbledore always says," she said. "'We are only as strong as we are united…as weak as we are divided'. Remember this, Harry Potter. You are not alone."

She opened the great front doors and walked inside. Almost dumbly, he followed her. He felt an overwhelming urge to say a million things—spill out all of his worries over the summer and thoughts from what Dumbledore had told him after the Battle.

Dimly, he noticed Madam Pomfrey rushing over to Ron and Hermione and immediately fussing over them. No doubt she had heard what happened in the Forest and was summoned to help them.

"We are just in time. The Sorting is about to begin, so you should be able to enter unnoticed—"

He nodded, mind still caught up in his thoughts.

"Oh—Professor?" he said, remembering just in time.

"Yes, Harry?" she asked, rose-colored cloak sweeping the floor as she turned around.

"I forgot to tell you—after everyone else got off the train, er…well, three of my classmates tried to hex me and my friends, so we…erm, took care of them first," he said, face reddening.

He saw a twinkle in her eye, though her face remained impassive. "Ahhh, yes. I remember these inter-House rivalries well. Slytherins, were they?"

"Yes. But the thing is, they were hit with a fairly strong stunner and I think they might be there still. But their fathers are Death Eaters, so—" he hurriedly added.

Her brow quirked. "I see. And, ah…where might these gentlemen be, pray?"

"In, er…in the luggage rack."

This time, she had to struggle to keep the mischievous smirk off her face that was threatening to break free. "I will see if I can find them. Mind you, if the term had already started, you would be receiving a detention and some docked points, but as the Sorting has not yet begun, I'm afraid I have nothing to threaten you with…"

Harry felt a grin spread across his own face. "Yes, professor."

"I know your sort. You'll either make my job a lot harder…or a hell of a lot easier," she said, then called over her shoulder as she walked away, "You got off lucky, Potter."

_I always do,_ he thought with a sheepish grin.

And with a flick of her wand, the oak doors closed behind her.

* * *

The door that led into the Great Hall had been left ajar and the sounds of hundreds of people talking together could be heard through the crack. They were all talking amongst themselves about the Death Eater attack, trying to piece together what happened. Harry peered in, reluctant to walk in just yet.

_Do they know the Death Eaters had something to do with us? Do they know what happened to Ron and Hermione? _

He saw the two redheads and the curly brunette sitting in their usual spots at the Gryffindor table. They had walked inside while Harry was talking to Professor Jones apparently. Madam Pomfrey must have given them the all-clear.

Everyone was abuzz about the attack. Apparently, the first-years had yet to make it into the castle—no food had yet been placed on the empty golden plates on any of the four long tables stretching across the room, and the Sorting Hat stood proud and unsuspecting on the stool in front of the teachers' table on the far side of the hall.

Harry was just about to go in when he hesitated.

_After everything the _Daily Prophet's _been printing, the whispers and gossip this year's going to be ten times worse than usual. Especially with the Death Eater attack on the Hogwarts Express. If I go in now,_ _everyone will turn to look at me, and won't stop staring after that. If only there was a way I could…_

He drew back, an idea forming. He allowed one moment to be grudgingly grateful to Hermione for making him take it before he withdrew the Invisibility Cloak from inside his robes. He had just enough time to put it on when the door to the Great Hall swung open and McGonagall came bustling through, re-adjusting her cloak pin. She didn't even glance his way, and Harry had to jump aside to narrowly avoid her stepping on his feet as she hurried across the entrance hall to the great doors to welcome this year's newest students to the castle.

Before the door could swing shut again, Harry slipped through it and into the Great Hall.

If Harry had not used his father's old cloak before, it would have felt weird—walking into a room full of hundreds of people and having none of them so much as glance in his direction.

Everyone, that is, except Luna Lovegood.

She was sitting at the Ravenclaw table and seemed to be staring at him, her eyes eerily unfocused.

_She can't actually see me….can she?_

Harry edged closer to the Gryffindor table, and after a moment she blinked, eyes focused again, and turned her attention back to the staff table. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but kept a close eye on her after that.

Ron and Hermione were seated in the middle of the Gryffindor table, with Neville, Ginny, and several other members of the D.A. nearby. They were talking about what had happened to Ron and Hermione. Harry walked up behind them enough to hear the last of this conversation, and felt guilt settle throughout when they mentioned being tortured.

At once, gasps were heard all around the table at the mention of the Cruciatus Curse. Lavender and Parvati crowded around Hermione, and Harry almost fell over when they elbowed him out of the way.

Guilt immersed inside him as he listened to Ron recant the story. When he got to the part about the Death Eater using two wands to cast the Cruciatus on the both of them, horror and dispair laid thick in Harry's chest.

_It was my fault. It always is. The Death Eaters were looking to capture me, and got Ron and Hermione instead._

_My best friends were tortured because of me._

Tears stung his eyes, and he blinked, looking up at the dais to give himself something else to think about.

Professor Dumbledore was perched in the middle of the high table as was usual, but the moment Harry looked up at him their eyes met and Dumbledore winked at him. Harry smiled back— it wasn't news to Harry that the headmaster could see through his Invisibility Cloak.

Sitting beside Dumbledore was Severus Snape in his usual spot and sporting his usual scowl. Professor McGonagall's empty seat was on the other side of the headmaster and Harry could see everyone he was accustomed to seeing still there—Professors Vector and Sinistra, deep in conversation; Binns, the ghost, hovering above his seat; Flitwick and Sprout, quite a bit shorter than everyone else despite Sprout's flyaway hair and Flitwick's tall hat; Trelawney and her gaudy shawls; Professor Burbage of Muggle Studies with her usual Muggle cap and jeans; Hagrid, towering over everyone with his moleskin coat and thick graying hair—Harry waved at him, then stopped mid-wave, remembering Hagrid couldn't see him. Next to Hagrid were Madames Pince and Pomfrey, the librarian and school nurse, talking to a witch Harry knew to be Professor Babbling of Ancient Runes. And beside her, at the very end of the table, was—

Viktor Krum.

He was wearing robes of dark blood-red that reminded Harry of the Durmstrang school, and seemed rather elegant for the start-of-term feast. His dark, almost black, hair was still long enough to fall into his eyes, though his eyebrows didn't seem as thick as Harry remembered them. But the broad, round shoulders and the curved nose seemed about the same, and the dark, sullen eyes kept looking over in their direction interestedly.

Harry noiselessly sat down at the empty space beside Ron and Ginny. The red-haired boy didn't even notice and stared past his head to the teacher's table. He wasn't the only one—nearly everyone in the Great Hall was whispering excitedly and pointing, and Harry could hear snatches of conversations.

"I heard he was taking a year's sabbatical—"

"Yeah, he got a Bludger to the ear, did you know? Has to use a magical aide in his ear now—"

"—who cares if he got hurt? It'll be wicked learning from him—!"

"Will he really be teaching—?"

"—hope he plays on our team! We'd so win this year—"

However, unlike the rest of the wizarding body in the room, Ron was not excited or wide-eyed. On the contrary, his face was twisted in a dark scowl and he seemed to be keeping a tight grip on his wand. To make matters worse, he was taking most of his newly bad mood out on Hermione.

"Why didn't you tell us he was going to be here?" Ron muttered darkly.

"I-I didn't know!" she said, looking as confused as Harry felt. "I haven't even written to him since July, and in his last letter to me he just kept dancing around a subject, saying things like…him seeing me soon…and how much he was looking forward to spending more time with my friends. I asked him, but he wouldn't tell me what he meant, just that it was a surprise…of course, it's obvious now he was talking about this…"

"Well, yeah, it's obvious! We all know the reason he's come is to see _you!_ Teaching the first-years how to fly is probably just some stupid bonus," said Ron, scowling. "He shouldn't even be here. He's foreign…hardly speaks a word of English…how's anyone supposed to understand him, eh? And he can't be more than twenty…barely old enough to teach babies, let alone us…"

"Oh, stop whinging about Krum, Ron. We all know you still have his autograph Spellotaped to your bedpost at home. Where _is_ Harry?" Ginny wondered aloud, straining to see the doors around Ron's tall frame.

Harry felt a flutter in his stomach that had nothing to do with the first-years who just walked into the Great Hall, headed by McGonagall.

The chatter everywhere grew quiet and all eyes turned to the line of new students as they followed the Deputy Headmistress between the tables and gathered in front of the staff table, around the Sorting Hat's stool.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "But if he isn't here soon, he's going to miss the Sorting!"

Above them, the enchanted ceiling was showing the rain coming down steadily harder, real drops falling down fifteen feet above their heads, then vanishing. As a result, most of the candles had sizzled and gone out, casting a rather eerie glow around the room; the main sources of light were now the giant sconces on the walls and the flashes of lightning that frequently lit up the hundreds of faces, now looking at the Sorting Hat expectantly.

"When's it going to—" Neville started saying, but just then the brim opened wide and the Sorting Hat began to sing:

"_You've heard the tales of Hogwarts School—_

_You've heard of these four Houses,_

_But I've not told of all I know_

_Of our Founders and their spouses._

_A tale there is of mystery_

_Before this school began,_

_When the Founders first were gathered_

_By a strange and runic man._

_So settle down and I will tell_

_Of what you've longed to hear;_

_Hush now, children, quiet down_

_And open up your ears…"_

"What the…" said Ron.

"Quiet!" Hermione breathed, "Just listen."

Harry ignored them both and sat forward in his seat, intrigued. The Hat continued.

"_Long before, in olden times_

_When Hogwarts first was new,_

_The greatest wizard ever lived_

_Sought magic to renew._

_He lived alone in these vast halls,_

_An old and wizened man;_

_Once, he served our first-loved king,_

_Now he could barely stand._

_He longed to end his misery,_

_His life was nearly done_

_But who would teach of magic's ways_

_When he was dead and gone?_

_He sat and thought both long and hard_

_And knew what he must do._

_A witch and wizard were the key—_

_He'd teach them all he knew!_

_So this great wizard traveled long_

_And found a wild moor,_

_He came across a brave young man_

_Named Godric Gryffindor._

_Next he found a clever girl_

_High in a mountain glen;_

_A shrewd man then soon joined them_

_By the name of Slytherin._

_And last to join this merry band,_

_A maid both kind and sweet—_

_And thus it was this wizard knew_

_His journey was complete._

_He brought them to his castle_

_And he taught them many things_

_He told how he with magic grand_

_Had saved his noble king._

_He sent them off to test their skills,_

_He showed them where to go_

_Their power and their magic grew,_

_They conquered every foe._

_But one more task before them lay,_

_Far in a land unknown_

_When Godric found a princess_

_Sitting on her golden throne._

_Helga, too, in love she fell_

_With a courageous man_

_Rowena then to someone fair_

_Did give away her hand._

_And Salazar, the last of them_

_A lady did he call,_

_Thus—four spouses for four Founders_

_They were lords and ladies all!"_

"They were _married?"_ said Harry to himself, astonished. Completely forgetting he was invisible.

Hermione glared at Ron.

"What? I didn't say anything!" Ron hissed. Harry bit down on his lip to keep from blurting anything else out.

"_Joined once more, the Founders knew_

_Their journeying was ended_

_And back to Hogwarts Castle_

_They returned with friendships mended._

'_But what about the warlock mage?'_

_I hear you ask of me_

'_What happened to this wizened man_

_Who taught them sorcery?'_

_When they returned, the day had come_

_They'd learnt of all he knew_

_And as he parted, left them with_

_Some treasures, good and true:_

_For Gryffindor, the bravest, he_

_Gave him a mighty sword,_

_And Hufflepuff—a chalice_

_Showed her truest to her word._

_A locket went to Slytherin_

_The most desirous of them,_

_And then to dearest Ravenclaw_

_He left a diadem._

_And then by far the saddest were_

_The four friends when he parted;_

_Yet from that day they had a dream,_

'_Twas then Hogwarts was started!_

_So thus it was these Founders four_

_Had gathered here together,_

_And with great magic and great love_

_They built a school—so whether_

_Your robes are made of red and gold_

_Or green or blue or yellow,_

_Just know that here it matters not—_

_You're still the finest fellow!_

_Though now I'll Sort you as I ought_

_Into these Houses four_

_Simply know that none of this_

_Brings me displeasure more—_

_I've warned you once and now you must_

_Take heed on my advice:_

_If you don't join together, you_

_Must pay a greater price._

_For once before a battle wrought_

_On Hogwarts' mighty grounds,_

_Where magic split and went awry_

_And no longer was bound._

_United, you will stand a chance_

_Within these able walls…_

_But if you stand divided, dears,_

_Great Hogwarts then will fall!"_

There was a silence that stretched across the Great Hall as everyone digested the Hat's words. Even the teachers sitting around the long table on the dais looked rather stunned.

Then at once everyone started talking, muttering to themselves and exclaiming to their neighbors, discussing the Hat's song and the meaning left inside it.

"What was _that_ all about?" asked Ron.

"Sshh! I'm trying to concentrate," said Hermione, closing her eyes and whispering to herself.

"A strange and runic man, though?" asked Ginny, "Who could that be? I've never heard of him before—I just thought they got together because they were friends. 'But if you stand divided'…wasn't that what the Hat was talking about last year? And the battle on Hogwarts grounds…that was because of Slytherin?"

Up front, McGonagall began to call names. One by one, timid eleven-year-olds walked up to the stool and put the Hat on over their eyes, where it sat for several moments before calling out Houses.

"Yes, it was," Hermione said, opening up her eyes once more. "I'm fairly sure I got it all down. But that was rather odd of the Sorting Hat, wasn't it? I've only heard it talk of the four Houses, the four Founders, 'the battle wrought'…but never this matter about some 'strange and runic man', or Founders' gifts, or this magic splitting awry… And the last bit must have been about the inter-House unity it was talking of before, in fourth year and in fifth. 'If you don't join together, you must pay a greater price'…but what price? Oh, I wish I had my book…"

"And where in Merlin's bloody balls is _Harry_—" said Ron.

"Well I don't know about his balls," said Harry conversationally, sliding off his cloak, "But I've heard his belly-button is a portal to another world."

Ron gaped.

"But—how did—when—_Harry!_" Hermione whispered, "What are you thinking taking your Invisibility Cloak off in here? Anyone might have seen you!"

"They didn't. They're too busy talking about the Sorting Hat's new song to notice anything. Which is why I took it off. No one's looking this way anyhow, see?"

He was right; only Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and Neville could actually see him and everyone else on the surrounding tables were so absorbed in each other that no one had even spared them a glance.

"But Neville doesn't—" Hermione began. Ron kicked her under the table.

"I don't what?" asked Neville, tearing his eyes away from the Slytherin table. "Oh. Hi Harry. When did you get here?"

"Came in behind the first-years, of course," said Harry with a straight face. He turned to find Ginny's eyes bearing into him, her arms crossed.

_Uh-oh…_

"_You said it was nothing!" _she hissed at him, so low that no one but Harry could hear her. "I didn't know you had an Invisibility Cloak! How is it that you've spent the entire summer in my house and I didn't even know? Think of all the things we could have done with it! We could have snuck out and followed Dad and Mum to Order Headquarters! How long have you even had it?"

Feeling that Ginny would become twice as mad as she was now, Harry decided that saying "Since first year" wouldn't have been a wise choice. Instead he stuttered, "Er…well, not too long…"

She glared at him, but didn't say anything else.

Harry turned away and clapped somewhat mechanically as "Harrison, Isadora" became a Gryffindor.

He didn't know why it was such a big deal that Ginny now knew about the Cloak, but it was. Why hadn't he told her before? It wasn't that he didn't think she could not keep the secret…it just hadn't ever occurred to him to tell, was all. She'd never been on any of the adventures he'd been on with Ron and Hermione when they had used the Cloak before. Come to think of it, she only had been on one "adventure" with him, and that was last June…

"So what about that song, eh?" Ron was saying. "Some riddle. Did you know the Founders were married, Nev?"

Neville blinked at the nickname. "No. At least, I don't think so. Gran might've mentioned it before first year, but I can't really remember…"

"I never have," said Dean Thomas from the next table.

"Me neither," said Parvati Patil.

"So I'm the only one here who's ever read _Hogwarts: A History_?" Hermione asked them all.

"Yep," said Ron.

"Most likely," said Harry.

Hermione sighed and shook her head, but she was smiling and Harry saw the familiar glint in her eyes that always came before relating information, which she seemed to take great pleasure in.

"Well? Go on, tell us. You know you're dying to," said Ron affectionately.

"All right," she said, lowering her voice, aware of all eyes on her.

Dean, Parvati, Seamus Finnegan and Lavender Brown all leaned forward from their table to hear better, and even Harry could feel a heightened sense of mystery.

"I'll begin…"


	7. The Werewolf's Return

**THE WEREWOLF'S RETURN**

Hermione cleared her throat before she began to speak.

"Now. As _Hogwarts: A History_ says, our historians can account for most of the Founders' lives," said Hermione. "But there are three years in which they can't. During these three years, all four of them simply disappeared with no magical traces of any kind, and weren't heard from again until they arrived back at Hogwarts Castle. But when they arrived, there were eight of them, not four."

"Eight?" asked Lavender.

"The spouses," said Ginny.

"Right. We have no idea where they could have gone within those three years—France, Denmark, the Americas, the list goes on. Historians have been debating this for centuries and no one's been able to come up with one straight answer. Even in the Sorting Hat's song it didn't say. Just 'far in a land unknown', which could have meant anywhere at that time—most of the world was unknown then. But of this, all historians are agreed—-that each of the four Founders found themselves a wife or husband in this unknown land. And by the time they came back and started rebuilding and strengthening the castle to transform it into a school, they each had several children of their own," said Hermione.

"Wait—they had kids?" said Ron.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Logically. You can't have an heir of Slytherin setting giant snakes on people if there's no one for this heir to be an heir _to_, can you?"

Ron's ears reddened. "I knew that," he muttered and sunk lower in his chair.

She ignored him and continued on, "There's very little known about the spouses, as you can see. Their native lands, their birth dates, their marriage dates, their physical appearances… _Hogwarts: A History_ was very vague on that. After all, the book is about an entire history of Hogwarts, not simply on the Founders, so it only devotes one chapter to the Founders' lives outside of the school. But we _do_ know the names of the spouses and the Founders' children."

"Which are…" prodded Seamus.

"Well, Godric Gryffindor married a princess, like in the Sorting Hat's song, and they had a daughter named Maura and a son named Paul. Rowena Ravenclaw, however, had only daughters with her husband, Sylvanus Ravenclaw: Helena, Sophia, and Margaret. Well, she had a fourth, Brenna, but she died when she was very young. Helga and Ignatius Hufflepuff had one son named Adam. And lastly, Slytherin joined with a woman called Therese, although historians argue whether they were married or not, and they had two sons named Matthias and Alexander—"

"Someone actually had kids with that greasy old monkey?" Ron exclaimed. "And to think—if his sons had only been decent and killed each other, we wouldn't have any of them."

He nodded towards the Slytherin table, who were now clapping as "Medusus, Meryl" became one of them and sauntered to the table.

"Actually," said Hermione, "one of his sons really was decent. He's known as the 'good son' of Slytherin and was one of the main opposers of his brother and father during the time of the Hogwarts battle."

"I don't care. Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin, as they say. You can't change the lot of them."

"But—"

"Wait, so they left, were married, had children, the end? What about the gifts the wizard gave them? What happened to those?" asked Harry as 'Pevensie, Rosa' became a Hufflepuff.

"Well, no one knows, do they?" Hermione said.

"Er…I dunno…do they?" Ron said.

"Of course not!" she said, exasperated. "This was nearly a thousand years ago, Ron. Anything could have happened to those gifts. I doubt that any of them are still here today. But as to what happened to them after the Founders died is anyone's guess. Personally, I've never heard of any thousand-year-old cups or lockets or diadems. I've been to the Museum of Magical Curiosities in London and there's nothing there that even remotely fits that description."

"Imagine, though," said Ron, running his fingers through his ginger hair, "What would it be like if we found something that old? I bet it's worth thousands of Galleons now. Especially if it belonged to—say, Gryffindor."

Not for the first time that night, Harry felt something tug at his memory. He had the strong feeling that he should be remembering something, but what that could be he had no idea.

"Well, the Sorting Hat is old enough," said Seamus, sniggering. "What d'you reckon we'd get for that?"

"Half a Knut, most like. The ratty thing can't be used for anything but scaring away customers. Can you imagine that sitting in Madam Malkin's shop?" said Dean.

The Great Hall doors swung open once more and everyone turned to look as Professor Jones walked in, cloak billowing behind her, with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle trailing behind.

Ron snorted. Harry could see Malfoy's face was a bright pink as he slid into a seat at his own table. At once, whispers began to break out as the D.A. members at each House table told their neighbors what happened.

"He's not smirking now, is he," said Ron in a low voice.

Harry nodded, though he couldn't help but wonder about what Malfoy said to them on the train.

The last of the clapping died down as the last first-year ("Wheeze, Jonathan") became a Ravenclaw. Harry watched as McGonagall picked up the Hat and the stool and carried them off into the entrance hall.

Dumbledore stood up, with a grave look on his face. He was dressed in red robes today with a golden trim, and with his stance before the candled flames perched atop the table, he rather reminded Harry of a phoenix. His expression, however, only darkened as he studied them all above his half-moon frames.

Ron groaned, not wanting a huge speech before he was allowed to eat. Harry could tell how starving his best friend was. Being cursed by a Death Eater would do that you...

But all Dumbledore said was, "Before I go over this year's changes, I do believe we are all far too ravenous for me to say much. First let's all tuck in the delicious food before us!"

There was an almost collective sigh of relief amongst the students. They furiously began stuffing themselves.

As Harry reached for a chicken drumstick, he glanced up to see Malfoy's eyes on him. He was no doubt furious with what had transpired between them on the train and Harry made a mental note to watch his back more than usual for the next week.

Beside him, Ginny was deep in conversation with Hermione about the fifth-years' coursework.

"Will we be learning any of those love potions this year?" Ginny asked, then added hastily, "Not that I want to try it, but I've always been interested in them. I just don't understand how anyone could be stupid enough to make someone become completely infatuated with them. I mean, talk about getting a life…"

"Actually, that's what the sixth-years will be learning. You'll be starting off easier with the Draught of Peace. Not many wizards know that it has a poisonous ingredient in it—although it's interesting when the knotgrass and moonstone are added together because they cancel out the hellebore's poisons and leave only the minerals which are needed—" Hermione was saying.

On his other side, Neville was excitedly showing Ron, Seamus, and Dean his new wand.

"—it's made of cherry, see? Thirteen inches, which is good, too, as my other one was getting too short—"

Seamus snorted. "It's not that your old wand was too short, Neville—you were getting too tall. I think you might well pass up ol' Ron and Dean here…"

Harry realized with a pang why Neville was holding a new wand at all—his old wand, which used to belong to his dad, Harry remembered—had been broken at the Department of Mysteries. But while it hurt him to remember what Neville had to go through, thanks to Harry, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of Ron, Dean, and Seamus all gathered around him as he talked.

Harry remembered overhearing Hermione talking about Neville over the summer, telling Mrs. Weasley about how she hoped Neville could make some better friends this upcoming year.

"You know, he only has Harry and Ron, and they're best friends already without adding him in. He hasn't been with any of us when we go off and do things. He's just…there…" Hermione had said.

"Oh, the poor dear," he heard Mrs. Weasley reply. "Especially with his parents, and all. You've heard what happened to them then? Yes…and then when you kids were in that dreadful Ministry room, heavens forbid! I wasn't there, but Remus told me what happened to Neville, how he was…"

There was an audible sniff.

"I know," said Hermione quietly, "Which is why I'm really worried about him, come September. I do hope he'll be all right this summer…I haven't told Ron or Harry, but I personally delivered Harry's birthday invitation to his Gran's. When I first stepped out of the Floo and saw him…" Harry heard a sigh. "He just looked so…_old_ sitting there. It was in his face, you know? Like the Cruciatus Curse made him age five years. And all of a sudden, he didn't look anything like the round-faced forgetful boy I met on the train, looking for his lost toad. He looked like…well, actually…he looked like _Harry._ Almost exactly the way Harry's been looking lately. All the sorrow, the loss, the responsibility, the guilt…but it's the pain more than anything."

"None of you should have been there that night…none of you…when I think of what happened to my dear Ron...and to you..._hic_...and to Harry…none of that should have happened…" Mrs. Weasley said in a thick voice.

_She was right, _Harry thought now. _None of that should have happened. Only I made it happen. It's my fault Neville was there in the first place, and my fault that he's now…_

_I haven't seen much of him, but what I have seen is downright depressing. He just isn't his old self. More than once I've caught him just looking out the window. Who knows what he's thinking about…Bellatrix Lestrange, his parents, what he went through in the room with the veil…_

He stopped, not wanting to think about the other events in that room which hit much closer to home for him. But he couldn't help but staring at Neville's face, trying to see what Hermione saw over the summer.

As the food magically appeared before them, it not-so-magically disappeared. Steamed broccoli and sauerkraut seemed to be the only items on the table that weren't being gulfed down by the starving teenagers. It wasn't even till after his first helping that Harry thought about trying the bratwurst dipped in the small saucer of German mustard that no one else had touched.

And then, all too soon, apple and pumpkin pies, cakes and tarts, and all manner of other delectable treats replaced their supper. Harry reached for an apple tart, quite content to listen to other peoples' conversations instead of joining them.

"Hi, Harry," said a voice behind Harry. He swiveled in his chair and saw Luna Lovegood standing in the aisle.

"Hello, Luna," he said with a smile.

It took him a moment to remember that Luna was there in the Department of Mysteries that night, too. Unlike the others, she didn't seem to have any lasting damages.

_But maybe she's changed too…_

"I thought I saw you come in but I wasn't sure," she said in her dreamy voice. "I didn't know you could make yourself disappear like that. Could you teach me sometime?"

"Er…" Harry was taken aback. Ron and Hermione were grinning behind him. "I suppose I could try. But you really should be asking Dumbledore; he can do it loads better than I can."

"Yes. I've seen him walking around the grounds sometimes at night. He looks rather like a ghost. But then…I suppose that's because he's not all there," she said.

Ron snorted into his lemon pie.

Luna smiled at him and drifted back to the Ravenclaw table.

"'Not all there'…" Ron repeated, chuckling. "I like her. She grows on you."

The treacle tarts and apple pie had just disappeared when Dumbledore stood up and the Great Hall grew quiet once more…

"And now… Welcome, my friends, to another year at Hogwarts! Another year full of magical education awaits you, and all students new to our school would do well to ask the older students what goes on here besides education—"

"Like Quidditch," said Dean Thomas on the next table.

"And Gobstones," said Seamus with a grin.

"And pranking."

"And dating."

"And snogg —"

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil both reached over and whacked them.

"—and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to tell you all of his extensive list of banned objects nailed to each four walls of his office. You would do well to take an hour or two—"

"Or ten," Ron broke in, sniggering.

"—To review this list and memorize the objects thereon so you will be free from detention. First years, please note that magic in the corridors is expressly forbidden—and quite a number of our other students would be wise to note this as well. Students are to be in their Common Rooms or dormitories by ten o'clock each night, and those who aren't will be given detention by the patrolling prefects.

"All of those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do so likewise. Also, for those who did not know, your new Head Boy and Head Girl this year will be Cormac McLaggen of Gryffindor, and Cho Chang of Ravenclaw—"

"_Cho?" _Harry asked, looking over at her.

She was currently rather pink under all the gazes and smattering of applause. More beautiful than ever, she had recently cut her long hair to the neck, and it looked like more than one male in the Great Hall had noticed.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry, did we forget to tell you?" said Hermione apologetically. "She and Cormac McLaggen were talking to the prefects during the ride here. She talked for nearly an hour, all about sticking together and inter-House unity—"

"I don't like her," Ron stated. "She's going to give us hell if we slack."

"She acts as if she owns the place," said Ginny, glaring at the Ravenclaw. "If you ask me, she's always been a bi—"

"—And now," Dumbledore was saying. "As I'm sure all of you are aware, the former Professor—oh, excuse me—_Headmistress_, Dolores Umbridge, fell into some rather bad company last June and has been hospitalized for her sanity—"

"—you mean _in_sanity—" muttered Harry.

"—and will therefore no longer be returning to Hogwarts as a teacher or as High Inquisitor. Given recent events, the Ministry has decided they no longer need to interfere with the way this school is to be run. They have decided that the post of High Inquisitor is no longer needed, and they have asked me to return as Headmaster of Hogwarts School, as to which I have accepted."

"Whoo!" screamed a Hufflepuff quite comically, and the Hall erupted in cheers, as well as laughter, making Dumbledore's eyes twinkle merrily.

"Thank you, thank you. It is my pleasure to announce that I have added a new position to the staff this year. As my schedule will be very full and I will be kept away from Hogwarts at odd hours, I have asked one former professor to return to the castle as my new assistant. May I introduce to you—"

But who he was about to introduce needed no announcing, as the doors to the Great Hall banged open and his new assistant came striding through.

"Is that—" started Ron.

"It can't be—" breathed Hermione.

"_Professor Lupin?" _said Harry.

It was indeed.

His hair was kept short and clean, his robes were new and unragged, he had no bags under his eyes, he looked much better for wear…and he was sopping wet.

But it was Remus Lupin.

"But he didn't tell us!" said Ron, looking affronted. "He's been visiting all summer and he never told us!"

Lupin cut the wet figure as he strode between the tables in his effort to get to the dais, winking at open-mouthed Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny as he passed.

"No way!" Seamus whispered.

"Cool!" said Dean.

But other whispers in the Hall weren't so friendly. There was a furious buzzing that generated at the Slytherin table and spread outwards. Harry could clearly hear "He shouldn't be here", "I won't be taught by _him_", and "Isn't he a werewolf?" amongst the small chatter of people who genuinely missed him.

"But how did the Ministry of Magic, or even the board of governors, allow him to come back?" Harry wondered. "I thought werewolves weren't allowed jobs?"

"Of course!" Hermione whispered. "I've read about this. They're calling it the Werewolf Recall. It was all over the Daily Prophet a week ago. Apparently, not all werewolves are carriers of the trait! Meaning that they don't have the ability to turn others into werewolves simply by biting them. If I remember correctly, Dumbledore was the one who came up with the idea, and someone in St. Mungo's has been conducting the trial. I suppose Professor Lupin has been tested negative! But that's wonderful!"

"Wait, you mean that if he were to bite us...then we'd be all right?" said Ron. "_Wicked!"_

Harry looked back at Professor Lupin with new eyes. The possibility of Lupin getting some modicum of his life back was exhilarating.

"Terribly sorry I'm late, Headmaster," said Remus Lupin as he neared the dais. He added drily, "Apparently, it's raining outside."

There were quite a few snickers as they took in his drenched appearance. Argus Filch was positively livid at the trail of puddles Lupin was leaving behind him.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore said, clearing his throat. "May I introduce to you, the Hogwarts Dean!"

The applause was not as great as Dumbledore's, but seemed to be rather heartfelt. The Gryffindors especially pounded the table to show their appreciation of their favorite former professor. Remus Lupin slid into the seat beside Severus Snape, who looked rather tight-lipped and sat rigidly in his chair.

Professor Dumbledore went on. "As I know some of you are aware, Remus Lupin is indeed a werewolf. However, in light of the new research the Ministry of Magic is conducting that not all werewolves carry the gene that makes other people werewolves, they agreed to allow Remus a trial run. He underwent the trial and it was proven that he does not carry the gene, and presents no danger in that regard. As well, our Potions master has kindly agreed to provide the Wolfsbane Potion every month, and as Remus will be living in Hogsmeade and will of course have extra measures upon his house, he can in no wise pose a threat to any one of you. As my assistant, he will delegate matters while I am away along with Professor McGonagall, and is available to any student in need of help.

"Now that we come to it, I am happy to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: Professor Hestia Jones!"

Hestia Jones stood up and nodded to the students, smiling curtly. Her leather hat was no longer in place, making her dark curls stand out as they fell down her back. There was just a smattering of applause, as no one had ever really heard of her; Harry's table clapped harder than most.

"As well, I regret to inform you that Madam Hooch announced her retirement during the summer, on the grounds of a bad leg. She will be very sorely missed by all. This has given me ample time to find you another teacher and referee. Please give a round of applause to Viktor Krum, who has taken a year's sabbatical from the Bulgarian Quidditch team to join our staff!"

The applause this time was much louder and lasted twice as long. Harry joined the others in clapping—what he had known of Krum in fourth year he had been rather impressed with. Krum had proven to be a gentleman in terms of sportsmanship and taking Hermione out to the Yule Ball.

The former Quidditch player did not stand, but gave a short nod to the screaming girls in the front. Was it Harry's imagination, or did his eyes linger on Harry's table longer than the others?

Ron, however, did not join in the applause and sat there, scowling. Hermione pretended not to notice and beamed back at Krum when he glanced over in her direction.

"Yes, yes, I am sure you are all very pleased. But before you give up your rooms in an offer for him to sleep there, as some of you have already, please let me state that he will be staying in Madam Hooch's old cabin and will not be needing any of your beds," said Dumbledore.

There was a loud groan from Roger Davies on the Ravenclaw Table that made everyone laugh.

Dumbledore's tone gravened considerably. "And now, I must relay a brief word. I would say the best of evening to you all, but I am afraid that with this attack on the Hogwarts Express, it has already been in wanting."

Eyes in the Great Hall all flickered over to Ron and Hermione, who both grew pink.

Harry straightened up at Dumbledore's words.

There was a slight murmuring amongst the students—apparently they wanted to know more about what happened, and Dumbledore decided to oblige them.

"As I am sure you all are aware, Lord Voldemort has risen again," said Professor Dumbledore gravely. "It was indeed his Death Eaters who attacked the Hogwarts Express by blowing up the tracks so that you would be made to walk. Several Death Eaters tried to attack a few of our students—who will be unnamed to protect their privacy—"

It was a mark of how scary and horrible that event was that nobody at their table snorted at the ludicrousness of his words. Of course everyone by now knew it was Ron and Hermione who were attacked.

"—You would be gladdened to know that no one was killed in the attack, and your escorts were able to fend off any remaining Death Eaters for your safety. But I must tell you that the danger has not yet passed! This was not the first time they have tried to attack Hogwarts, and it will not be the last!"

The murmuring grew louder and there were several cries of dismay.

"However!" Dumbledore's voice rolled over the talk, quieting the students once more. "Do not despair, for the Auror office has set apart some Hogwarts guards. They will patrol the grounds and castle each night and are on the lookout for anyone untrustworthy. I beg you all to not hassle them and to let them do their job. They are here for our protection, and I will severely punish the first student who tries to inhibit them from doing so.

"Along with our new guards, I have taken the highest measures to ensure a safe and happy year at Hogwarts. The wards and enchantments surrounding both the castle and the village have been strengthened immeasurably, and each secret passageway will be watched closely. I therefore advise all those who know of these passageways to exercise extreme caution and advise a teacher or prefect of any personal outings their friends might undertake."

His gaze flickered over to Harry and Ron, and they grinned at each other.

"Notice he's not actually telling us _not _to go on these outings…" Ron pointed out.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. Although the castle's fortifications have been strengthened over the summer and we are protected in new and more powerful ways, we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you find them—in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."

He gazed around them all, arms open as if to embrace the room. Then his gaze softened and his eyes gleamed once more.

"And now! Let us end this on a brighter subject and let me deter you from your beds no longer. I believe I have kept you all long enough. Your beds await, as warm and as comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip, pip!"

He clapped his hands once and the candles above them seared with light once more, brightening the path to bed.

The students all stood up, almost at once, and a great chattering filled the Hall as they all surged forward, clamoring for the door.

"First-years! Gryffindor first-years! Follow me and don't get lost!" Ginny yelled, pinning her Prefect badge on her robes. The other Gryffindor fifth-year prefect—a dark, curly-haired boy with rather pointy ears Harry recognized vaguely to be the boy named Tobias Rosier—hurriedly got up and followed her lead.

Ron leaned back, hands behind his head, and grinned. "Boy, am I glad I don't have to do any of that this year. Sixth-year prefects get to order the fifth-year prefects around."

"No, they don't, Ron," said Hermione. "Come on, we need to lag behind to make sure none of the Gryffindors stray off."

"But I'm stuffed," Ron moaned.

"Well, it serves you right for eating three pieces of that lemon pie," snapped Hermione.

"That pie was right in front of me! What else was I suppose to do with it?"

"Let me have a piece, for one—"

"Yeah, like that'll ever happen," snorted Ron as he got up and muttered gravely. "Being tortured does that to you, apparently. Well, aren't you two coming?"

Harry had been watching the staff table, wondering if he should go up and talk to Remus and Hagrid. They seemed to be deep in conversation though, and didn't pay any attention to him at all when they passed the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. They were talking quietly together as they left—or as quiet as Hagrid could manage. Harry could still hear snatches of conversation, all from Hagrid's booming whisper.

"—so the project shoul' be up and runnin' in a few days then, eh? I know Dumbledore's quite ready for it, Grawp surely is—yeah, he'n me brought all his stuff to the mountain cave—he'll be happy in his new home—and Charlie'll be flyin' her up sometime afore Halloween—"

Harry stopped, watching them leave. For a moment's hesitation he wondered if he should follow them out and eavesdrop some more. Project? Charlie? _Grawp?_

Those three words together certainly didn't promise anything on a small scale.

_I can always wrestle the information out of Hagrid later, _he decided, remembering back in his first year when getting clues about the Philosopher's Stone and Fluffy was usually as easy as simply waiting for Hagrid to talk long enough.

"Hello? Harry and Hermione to the wizarding world," said Ron.

Harry started and looked over at Hermione, who likewise had been preoccupied with thoughts about a teacher at the staff table. Who she was focusing on, however, was certainly not Lupin or Hagrid.

"Oh, sorry, Ron," she said, flushed.

"We're coming," Harry said. He stood up and followed Ron and Hermione out of the Great Hall. They hadn't gotten far, however, when a voice behind them said—

"Her-mione?"

She turned. "Viktor! What a surprise! Congratulations—you never told me you were coming to teach at Hogwarts—"

"What, no 'Herm-own-ninny'?" Ron muttered sourly behind them, mimicking Krum's accent.

"Good evening, Potter—Veasley. I haff—_have_—been trying to vork on my English," said Viktor Krum.

"Yeah, we can tell," said Ron sarcastically.

Harry stepped on his foot before Hermione had to.

"Hullo, Krum," said Harry. "Surprised to see you here. Welcome back, I suppose. Dumbledore said you'd be teaching Quidditch?"

"Yes. I vill also be referee to your matches."

"That's wonderful!" said Hermione. "Will you be dining in your cabin every day, or eating with us?"

"Vith you…if I am velcome," he said, taking her hand.

Harry coughed and Hermione turned pink.

"Yeah, it'll be a pleasure," Ron said snidely, grabbing Harry and Hermione's cloaks and dragging them with him to the door. "Nice talking to you, but she—er—_we_ need our beauty sleep."

"Ron—stop—let me—erm, good night, Viktor!" Hermione called back before they rounded the corner and started up the marble stairs. As soon as they were out of sight, she wrenched her cloak out of Ron's hands. "Ron, that was completely uncalled for! Why do you have to be such a—such a—moron when it comes to him?"

"If you hadn't noticed, he was asking you out on a date!"

"So?"

"_So? _He's a—but he's—he's a _teacher, _Hermione! That's not allowed! You could get expelled for that!" Ron spluttered.

"Oh, rubbish! He and I were going out long before he came here to '_referee'_. And besides," she said loftily, shrugging her hair over her shoulder. "He's not _my _teacher!"

And with that, she stomped up the rest of the stairs.

Harry looked over at Ron, who was rather red.

"'_He's a teacher_'?" Harry repeated. "Is that really what you object to?"

"She could get expelled…couldn't she?" Ron asked, rather hopeful. "I think I'll ask McGonagall in the morning…"

Harry sighed and shook his head. _Ten minutes into term and already they're both going at it. Won't be much longer before there's an all-out row. _

He followed Ron and the rest of the Gryffindor stragglers up the marble staircase that swept to the first floor and down the long hallway lined with portraits and suits of armor. Ron seemed to be arguing with his sister Ginny for a change instead of Hermione, and upon a closer hearing of the subject they were arguing about, Harry found out why.

They were immersed in a lively conversation about the Chudley Cannons' new Seeker, a fellow by the name of Jack Woodlesby. Ron could be seen gesturing wildly as he debated with her whether or not Woodlesby was better than their former Seeker, accidentally hitting Neville in the eye in the process.

"Aw, come on, Ginny! Just because he can dodge Bludgers better than Greene can—oh, sorry, Neville— it doesn't mean he knows how to catch the Snitch in twenty seconds flat! Sure, he looks better when the game's over, but when it comes down to it, I think the one hundred and fifty points should count for something!" Ron grumbled, tired of arguing with his outgoing sister.

Harry could see why he was frustrated.

From what Harry could tell with a terse irritation, Ginny was of the opinion that it really only came down to who was cuter. She had in fact turned fifteen a couple of weeks ago and said that she still couldn't get over how good-looking some of the players were, especially when they managed to get by with no bloody noses or broken bones.

"Well I, for one, think that it's a pity they didn't let him on sooner. When they played against the Wimbournes last Christmas, Stanley Greene could have used more than a few pointers," she said, and grinned as she saw the look on Ron's face. "And who's to say that Woodlesby doesn't look by far the best player in Quidditch uniforms since Ludo Bagman did when he was young and popular, anyhow?"

She laughed out loud as Ron pretended to retch, and Harry breathed a secret sigh of relief as he realized she was only having him on. Ginny loved teasing her brother, especially since Fred and George left.

"Seriously, though," Ginny said now. "I know you're hard on the Cannons, Ron, but without Quimble playing defense Chaser, they're going to be crushed. Remember when he blocked the Arrows from scoring by shooting straight up into the air and snatching it from under their noses? Priceless…"

They went up a few more flights of stairs, some changing and some not, to the seventh-floor corridor. Shadows flickered on the floor and ceiling from the high windows like dying flames. Down the last stretch until they stood before the Fat Lady.

"Twitter-pated," Ron yawned.

"You look it, too," said the Fat Lady as she swung open.

Harry stepped through, for once not having to climb through the hole as he'd had to in years previous.

Although the common room with its puffed-up chairs and crimson rugs and roaring fireplaces was usually a sight to fill Harry with a sense of being home, tonight he had eyes only for his bed. He climbed the last staircase to the seventh floor of the tower, opened the door to boys' whispers, guffaws, and snores. Harry didn't even remember when he had fallen into his bed in sheer exhaustion and fully-clothed.

Sleep simply came.


	8. Bloody Hell

**BLOODY HELL**

Hermione couldn't sleep.

The potions she had taken for the Curse had long since stopped working, and her body kept shivering in pain. She moaned in agony and finally just gave up. The idea of sleeping at all in this state was laughable. Although she had been trying for the past hour, it was to no avail. And it wasn't just the cramping coming back. She could not stop thinking about the Sorting Hat's new song. The riddles kept running around and around in her head.

Who was the wizard who taught the Founders? How much of Hogwarts castle was rebuilt and added to the original structure? Why hadn't she ever heard of the 'four gifts' before now? And then there was the biggest question of all: What happened in the great Hogwarts Battle, and why did the Hat say it was going to happen again?

The battle in particular wasn't very well-known. It seemed every historian who even mentioned it was too ashamed of what happened and why, and didn't feel the need to elaborate.

But of this she knew: one of the Founders died during it, another of the Founders' spouses died because of it, all of the Houses were pitted against each other, brothers fighting against brothers, and sons against fathers… and after the battle, Salazar Slytherin was never seen or heard from again. Some accounts said he died, others said he remained living in a secret chamber in the castle…and one account stated that he simply vanished in the midst of the battle—which couldn't have happened, as apparition and disapparition hadn't been discovered yet and the quickest one could have gotten from one place to another was by broom.

But of one thing, Hermione was certain—she was going to find out. If she was going to scour the entire library, she _would _discover what the Sorting Hat was talking about. And she had the strongest feeling that the information would be very important before this was all through.

Her forehead was burning hot. Her aching muscles kept shivering uncontrollably. She desperately needed more of that potion.

Unable to even pretend to sleep, Hermione lifted the sheets off her and slid her feet into her slim, periwinkle slippers. Crookshanks lay asleep on her other pillow and didn't wake up at her movement. She started towards her trunk, which still held all her books, but groaned softly, remembering.

Over the summer, her cousins spent a month of it with her family; and Gabriel, aged ten, had been so interested in hearing her talk of Hogwarts that she let him borrow _Hogwarts: A History._ He didn't even give it back to her in time before she left for school, which meant that now she'd have to tour down to the library for a copy, or wait until after classes…

She hesitated—then on a split-second decision, she grabbed her matching flowy robe from its hook on her wardrobe, and her wand from her nightstand before heading out the door.

_If there's one thing I've learned from Harry and Ron the past five years, _she thought determinedly as she walked quietly down the staircase, _it's that there are some things worth breaking the rules for. This just happens to be one of them._

Besides. If anyone caught her out of bed at night, she could just say she was heading to the hospital wing.

Actually, she should stop by there too...

There was no one in the common room as she went through, although it was a mess of snacks, left-over clothes, even some party favors from those who were glad to be back. The dying embers cast a faint reddish glow around the room, and after she picked her way through the mess, she whispered, "_Nox!"_

Hermione pried open the Fat Lady's painting—she was deep asleep and didn't even wake when Hermione closed it again—and set off down the passageway to the library she knew only too well.

At once she regretted having turned off her wand.

The long corridor was pitch-black and she kept hearing faint noises behind her and in front of her that scared her until she realized it was just the sleeping portraits.

She descended the staircase, careful that her ballet-type slippers made no noise on the stone floor. It was colder in this corridor, and she pulled her robe tighter around her torso, shivering.

Not once did she pass Argus Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Hermione knew the prefects' patrolling schedules too well already to have bumped into the Hufflepuff fifth-years on the lower floors, or the Ravenclaw seventh-years on the opposite side of the castle. But at last she reached the library, and pulled the big doors open cautiously before going inside.

It was rather like stepping into a cathedral. The high windows on both sides let in the moonbeams and the distant light seen from a few windows from the towers—she could see Professor Dumbledore's office lights were on, and Professor Sinistra's on the far tower. With the dim light and the high ceiling, each of the large bookshelves seemed twice as large now than during the daytime. Shadows were cast everywhere and each dark corner seemed to house a dark occupant.

Hermione walked forward, breathing shallowly. _I don't like the dark. I don't like it, I really don't…_

It wasn't that she was afraid of it—but she always felt uncomfortable when there were things she didn't know, things she couldn't see, things she couldn't feel. And right now, there were far too many dark corners for her liking, and for all she knew, there really was someone lurking or hiding there…even if it turned out to be Crookshanks or Neville, it made no difference. It was simply the thought that she was walking into a room vulnerable and putting her life on the line for something she had no surety of that frightened her.

She shivered. Her pain increased from the exercise of walking down here.

_I don't have to do this. I can wait until tomorrow—I can wait until after classes have ended…oh, but I don't want to be a coward like this, I really don't…_

_Oh, relax, _said the voice in her head that sounded a lot like Ron. _Get a grip on yourself—you're not in the Department of Mysteries, you're not being chased by Death Eaters—you're in Hogwarts, you're safe, everyone's asleep and you have the whole library to yourself without Madam Pince breathing down your neck. Enjoy it._

Setting her shoulders, Hermione walked past the long, silent shelves to the back of the room. She knew exactly where to look. Stopping by the last row against the far western wall, she ran her fingers over the spines.

She glanced at the library doors and, just to be on the safe side, shot a spell towards them to jam them—not lock them entirely, or Mr. Filch, Professor Snape, or one of the prefects would definitely know someone was in here. Now they were stuck enough for her to hear the noise of them opening, giving her time to hide herself.

She set her wand so the faintest of lights was emitting, and held it up to the books.

"_The Daring Nerve and Chivalry of Godric Gryffindor"…"Rowena's Ravishing Beauty", oh please… "Misunderstanding Salazar Slytherin", don't make me gag…"Hogwarts Headmasters and Headmistresses: Past and Present"…now we're getting somewhere…_

She winced as she took several more like these off the shelf; rather, anything that had to do with the Founders from a strictly historical point of view—

_Which means that "Salazar's Socks: A Wizard's Fascination" is definitely out._

With her large stack of books, on the top of which was _The Founders Four, _she walked to a table far from sight of the library doors, and sat down.

An hour passed as she scoured them all, but to her it seemed only minutes. _Hogwarts: A History _had nothing new that she hadn't read before; the only thing she could gleam from the book on headmasters was that Professor Dumbledore wasn't in there; and _Wizarding Wars _was useful in telling her that there was nothing new to be learned from the Hogwarts Battle.

And as she read, her eyes started hurting. She closed them more and more, rubbing them, trying to get the pins and needles out. As a result, she grew more tired, and her eyelids kept drooping, and her mouth wouldn't stop yawning, and if she put her head down while she read at least she wouldn't have to hold it up…

"Hermione?"

Someone was shaking her. "Hermione!"

"Don't—" she murmured, "Don't, please, I'd rather sleep—"

"But wouldn't you rather sleep in a bed? I'm sure it would be much more comfortable…Merlin's beard, child, you're burning up!" It was Professor Lupin's voice.

She shot her head up. She tried to open her eyes, but they were hurting so bad.

"P-P-Professor Lupin," she stumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her itching eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

She finally opened her eyes at the same time that she stood up, and immediately cried out in pain and fell against him. Her head was throbbing, she couldn't see, her opened eyes hurt so bad—

"_Hermione!"_

The agonizing pain she felt was immensely overwhelming. She heard moaning and felt a draft but couldn't understand why she was moving but not walking, and who was making those sounds?

She tried to open her eyes, and saw the bleary hospital wing. But the act itself made her scream out in pain yet again.

"Poppy!" called Professor Lupin. "Poppy, _quick_!"

"What's the—heavens!"

"I found her in the library—she collapsed—"

"Well, of course she did, she was attacked just mere hours ago!"

"No, Poppy, it's more than that. She keeps moaning about her eyes hurting—"

"Her eyes? Why? Come, set her here—"

"Is it the Cruciatus then? Did the potions you give her wear off?"

"No...no...that wouldn't affect her eyes like this...this is something far worse…_boys_!"

"Hermione—"

"What's wrong with her—"

A light beside her turned on. The pain as it sliced through her eyelids was indescribable.

Screaming. So loud it hurt her ears.

"Turn it off! Please! _Please! _Turn it off!" she cried out.

But nobody did.

She tried to reach for the light, to turn it off.

"Why is she—Poppy—_just give her something!_" Professor Lupin said in anguish, his hands going to her arms—why was she moving them—

"—hold her down—"

"_What is wrong with her—"_

"Severus_, help__—__"_

The light was burning her! She screwed her eyes tight, trying to block it out. Her arms flailed, trying to reach it. _Why wasn't anyone turning it off?_

She screamed in pain and frustration, and a burst of magic exploded out of her. A loud _pop _and the light exploded, plunging them into darkness.

At once, the pain went away and she kept her eyes tightly closed. She sagged against the bed, the fight gone out of her.

"What did she—how did—"

"It was the light...the light was hurting her…" said a shocked voice.

Hermione knew she couldn't risk opening her eyes again to see who it was. Her eyes were in so much pain, she was amazed that she wasn't gouging them out of her head right now.

Madame Pomfrey took advantage of Hermione's lax state. Something was forced down her throat, and she gagged. Tears sprung to her closed eyes and spilled right out of them, trickling down her cheeks.

There were several gasps of horror.

"That's blood. Her tears...they're…"

"Why is she crying _blood?_"

"_Bloody hell..."_

The potion they gave her swirled voraciously in her mind, drugging her, making her weak and faint.

"_What the hell did that bastard do to her?"_

"Hermione?"

_Hermione…_

_Ron!_ She tried to cry out to him, but it just echoed around her mind, an echo with no voice, and she felt like she was swirling down the vortex, until…

Nothing.

An emptiness of nothing.

* * *

'Nothing' gave way to light, and he opened his eyes.

Ron woke up groggily to the sunlight streaming in through the stained glass of the hospital wing. The diamond window panes captured the light beautifully, and he knew he'd never get used to how...well..._pretty_ Hogwarts could be.

But the reason why he was in the hospital wing in the first place flooded back, and he whipped his head around to Hermione's bed.

She was awake.

There was a white bandage covering her eyes and going around to the back of her hair like a crown. He couldn't see her eyes, but the bandage was mercifully white and not spotted with blood.

Madam Pomfrey's miraculous ministrations must have worked.

Ron shivered, remembering how horrifying it was to see Hermione, his best friend, thrashing around her bed, screaming in pain, as Lupin, McGonagall, and Snape held her down so Madam Pomfrey could give her the potion.

When those bloody tears trickled down her face…

His face whitened at the memory.

It gave them all a scare.

"Hermione!" Harry sat up in his bed next to Hermione's other side.

"How are you—" Ron started.

"Boys! Really now, Miss Granger just woke up. She doesn't need either of you shouting at her just yet," Madam Pomfrey scolded, striding over. "Now how are you feeling, dear?"

"Much better," Hermione said demurely, sitting up in bed. "My eyes don't hurt anymore…"

Ron couldn't stop staring at the bandage covering her eyes. He'd never seen her so...vulnerable...before.

"Don't remove the bandage now, dear. It must be on for another hour at the least. But the prognosis looks good! The spells I did last night should have worked. We'll know for sure soon enough."

"Really, Poppy? Excellent!" Dumbledore said, entering the room. At his heels were McGonagall, Lupin, Snape, and Hestia Jones.

"Why the entourage?" Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione. Ron shrugged as they crossed the room to the students.

Dumbledore sat down on the bed beside Ron, and patted Hermione's sheet-covered leg. "Now, my darling. Tell me exactly what happened. From the beginning, if you please."

Haltingly, Hermione told them, starting with when the train screeched to a halt. She omitted the part about Harry and Ron stuffing the Slytherins in the luggage rack, to their relief. Having Dumbledore be privy to that knowledge would have made Ron really rather hot under the collar.

When she got to the part about that Death Eater chasing them, Ron winced, reliving it. The curse that hit her eyes (Merlin, it sounded painful) especially caught Dumbledore's attention.

"Ah, the Haemolacrus Curse," he said, pity covering his features. "It takes a while to take on the full effect, which is why you were able to revitalize your eyesight momentarily. But the longer the eyes lie dormant, like when you fell asleep, the longer the curse has to take hold and the worse it becomes. Had you actually finished a full night's rest before Professor Lupin woke you, my dear, I'm afraid you would be looking at permanent blindness."

Ron sucked his breath in through his teeth. Harry was as white as the sheer gauze curtains hanging in the room. Hermione's bandaged face, however, held no emotion.

She continued with yesterday's terrible events. When she got to where Ron was knocked out, he grew very still, as did Harry.

Hearing how Ron fell, Madam Pomfrey at once ran over to Ron and lifted the back of his shirt. Luckily, he was rather used to his mum fussing over him enough that this wasn't strange to him.

"I do see a mark, Albus," she murmured, cold fingers over his skin. "Mr. Weasley, were there any effects as a result from this curse?"

"None…" Ron said. "I fell down...I blacked out...I thought it was just a stunner?"

"A stunner would have been reversed by _Rennervate," _Hermione countered before Dumbledore could or Pomfrey could reply. "I don't know what curse hit Ron, but he did wake up on his own. When I was...screaming…"

"Continue, Miss Granger."

Hermione went into everything that happened while Ron was unconscious. His ears grew red when she told about how she tried to save him and wake him up. If she hadn't tried that...if only she had run instead….

She wouldn't have been tortured.

"It wasn't your fault, Ron," she whispered. Had he said that aloud? Her face turned to him, a tear leaking out from under the bandage. A normal tear, thank Merlin, not a bloody one. "I couldn't have run. For one thing, I couldn't see anything. For another, I couldn't leave you. I'd never leave you."

She turned to the others, and continued the story. "I was so worried...and afraid. The Death Eater kept hitting me, curse after curse, and I knew my shield wouldn't last much longer. And when I was talking to him, I asked him what he did to Ron, and he said...he said… '_I may have messed with his blood...a tiny bit'..."_

There was a definite shift in the room at these words. Snape and Lupin started muttering to each other about what this could mean. Dumbledore gave Poppy permission to draw blood, and she did with her wand, collecting it into a vial from Ron's forearm.

When his blood came out, there was an audible gasp.

His blood was brown.

The shock and disgust at this turned Ron's stomach. He leaned over to retch in the rubbish bin beside his bed.

"He...he turned Mr. Weasley's blood brown?" came the shocked whisper of McGonagall behind him. "But...by what purpose? What could he have possibly intended by this?"

Ron wiped his mouth. "Isn't it obvious?" he croaked out, turning back around to face them. The pity on their faces was superfluously clear. "By marking my blood the same color as mud, he's saying I'm no better than her."

He gestured to Hermione, whose mouth was open in shock. The word he wasn't saying hung in the air before them.

_Mudblood._

He'd been marked.

A drawn-out silence followed his words.

"It was extremely fortunate that Mr. Potter got to you both when he did," said Dumbledore gravely. "I shudder to think what this wizard would have done to the both of you...had he not."

"It can be reversed though," said Jones, speaking up when she saw the look on their faces. "All Poppy has to do is drain the blood from your body at the same speed as it is magically replenished. It should only take a few minutes."

Pomfrey was bustling around, preparing a cart full of the supplies she needed to do this. With chagrin, Ron laid down in the bed and she drew the bedcurtains around him to give them more privacy while she pumped out his blood. He could still hear the conversation going around Hermione's bed though.

"As...disastrous...as what happened to you in the woods is...that still doesn't explain why you were out of bed at night, Miss Granger...and in the library no less," Snape's deep voice intoned.

Ron scowled. Leave it to Snape to bring every story back to punishment...

"Please, Professor, I just...I had to solve the riddle. I thought, if I could grab a few books about it, then come to the hospital wing to take something for the pain…" she trailed off.

"Ah! Speaking of...I went into the liberty of checking these out for you," said Lupin. There was the sound of a stack of books being dropped. Ron knew that sound far too well.

Hermione's face must have been confused, as tired as she was, because Lupin tried to explain. "These are the books that were next to you on the table when you...erm…"

"Oh! Thank you, Professor! Please, Madam Pomfrey, may I take the bandage off now?"

Pomfrey had just hooked Ron up to some whirring magical machine when she left to tend to Hermione.

"Yes my dear...quite right…" The nurse hurried away.

She must have unwound it from Hermione's head because there was just silence. Ron held his breath, half-expecting to hear the gasps of the professors from Hermione's bloody eyes staring at them again.

Ron peered through a slit in the bedcurtains, not wanting to miss it, as the the bag beside him filled out with the gross brown blood.

Hermione's eyes were clean and pure once more. Hermione looked around them all, then held still while the nurse held her wandlight into her eyes. Ron bit his tongue, waiting for Hermione to start screaming again. But she behaved normally and just cleared her throat nervously while Madam Pomfrey finished her examination.

"Irises are good...Pupils good...good, good...sclera, cornea….good...tear ducts...well...everything appears to be fine now…just a bit bloodshot," Pomfrey muttered.

Ron grinned in relief. Harry looked just as joyful as he gripped Hermione's hand reassuringly.

"Thank you! Headmaster, please may I go to classes today? I couldn't miss the first day…" Hermione begged.

The professors could hardly hide the smiles on their faces at her eagerness to learn. Ron thought it was revolting.

"Well, Madam Pomfrey has cleared your eyesight…" Professor Dumbledore said. "As soon as she is done replenishing Ron's blood, I see no reason why not, so long as the two of you take it easy today."

"Thank you!" Hermione grinned, before he could finish.

Ron groaned in dismay. "If I'm going to get my body sucked dry of all my blood, I might as well get a free day off school from it."

There was a chuckle at his words from the five professors. No. Four, because Snape was a git.

"I'm afraid that's not needed, Mr. Weasley. See, dear? You're finished already! Would you like a cookie and some pumpkin juice? I do need you to stay down for ten more minutes, then you are as good as new…"

Ron perked up considerably at this.

The professors got up to leave, but Lupin hung back to talk to Harry, Ron, and Hermione..

"Thank you, really, Madam Pomfrey, for everything," said Hermione, getting up. "And thank you so much for helping me, Professor," she told Lupin. "I really don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found me in the library."

Ron and Harry hung back, unsure about approaching her with their questions when she was in conversation with their former professor.

"My dear, it's quite all right. But are _you _all right? I was horrified when I heard about that Death Eater attacking you," he said, helping her to collect her books. "And when you passed out in the library, darling...but all these books...it looks like you've been…rather busy, I see…"

"Oh, sorry. I have, yes, and…wait, what time is it?" Hermione glanced down and noticed with a blush that she still had her robe and nightgown on.

"A little after seven," Lupin said, checking his time-piece. "Please don't tell me you're going to go through what you did three years ago, Hermione. Or does this have to do with you being cursed? Have you been experiencing other symptoms then?"

"Yeah, Hermione," Harry broke in, worried. "You sure you don't want to stay here longer?"

"You'd be bloody lucky to miss classes today," Ron said.

"No, no, it's not that—I—" she stammered, face colored. "I couldn't sleep, see, and I thought if I could just figure out the Sorting Hat's riddle, perhaps I could sleep better."

"The Sorting Hat's riddle? I'm afraid I don't follow," Lupin said, sitting beside her and looking at the book titles.

"Oh, that's right, you weren't there on time..."

She told him everything she remembered about the riddle from memory—which was all of it, rather. He looked rather impressed when she quoted the whole thing word for word.

"Ah…I see…" he said when she was done. "No wonder you're confused. I haven't heard any of this either…and I thought I knew a lot about Hogwarts."

"Yes, but none of these books are telling me _anything!" _she complained, distressed, and stacking them up once more. "I don't know where else to go, if the information is not here—and it's important that I get it, I know it is—"

"Calm down, please, Hermione. You've only just started, and I do know of one person you've overlooked who knows more about Hogwarts than any of these books."

"But who?" she asked.

Professor Lupin smiled. "Dumbledore."

"_Oh!" _she breathed. Ron could tell that she felt rather foolish for forgetting. "Merlin, why didn't I think of him before?"

"Well, I don't suppose Merlin has a clue, but I am fairly sure that Dumbledore might," Lupin said briskly. "You could ask him sometime—or I could ask him for you when I see him next—"

"No, that's all right," Hermione said. She stood up with the books, and Ron, Lupin, and Harry followed her out of the hospital wing and down the hallway. It must have been after the five minutes that Ron was supposed to be down, because Pomfrey didn't stop them.

"You know," Lupin said, holding _The Hogwarts Riddle._ "That was rather clever of you, jamming the door, Hermione. It's something James and Sirius did quite often back in their Hogwarts days. I remember one occasion when they did that to the girls' dorms—don't ask me how they got past the slide. Hestia was so angry she did the Bat-Bogey Hex with a slight twist—Sirius's ears kept flapping for a week."

Ron and Harry chuckled, and Hermione smiled.

"Well, I must be off," Lupin said, and gave her a quick hug. "Happy to see you up and about, Hermione. And Ron, glad to see you're blood-red yet again. Take good care, Harry. Don't you three go looking for trouble…"

"Thanks, Professor!" they chanted.

Lupin turned around. "And please, I'm not a professor anymore… Call me Moony."

They grinned at his retreating back.

"One thing is puzzling me, though," Hermione said a few minutes later, as Harry and Ron matched her slower strides and they walked up to Gryffindor Tower. "How did you two know I was in the hospital wing? I remember hearing your voices last night. Which means you spent the night there with me."

"You can blame Crookshanks for that," said Ron, though with a hint of pride in his voice. "We were both sound asleep when he came tearing into the room, yowling. We knew something was wrong right away. He'd never done that before."

"We followed him. He didn't take us to your dorm, like we thought he would. He scratched at the Fat Lady's portrait and took off to the hospital wing. That's when we heard you screaming. Then we got there, and the professors came a few seconds later, trying to hold you down—"

"You kept screaming," Ron described, thoughts darkening at the memory. "Merlin, Hermione, if we only knew that it was the light that was hurting you…"

"And the blood…" Hermione asked furtively. "Is it gone now?"

"Yes. Madam Pomfrey gave you a potion last night that knocked you right out. Then she opened your eyes and….well, she basically healed them…"

"They were covered in blood, you know," Harry said. "It was...rather spooky, really. You were laying there with your eyes spelled open and all we could see was blood. She did a lot of spell movements, and Dumbledore had to help her with some of them because she didn't know how to resolve it completely."

"Then after the blood was gone, she gave your eyes some healing potion drops and wrapped the bandage over them. Since it was so late, they let us sleep there instead of making us go back to the Tower," Ron finished. "That was nice of them."

"Yes," she murmured. "It was…"

"Well," Harry sighed glumly. "Now we've got the first day of classes ahead of us."

Hermione smiled. It lightened Ron considerably, seeing her smile after everything that had happened to them in the last twenty-four hours.

She linked her arms around the both of them. "Come. Let's get ready for school."

So they did.


	9. Peeves and the Professor

**PEEVES AND THE PROFESSOR**

When the boys got back to their dorm room, Ron left to take a shower, while Harry collapsed on his bed and promptly fell asleep…

Causing Ron to wake him up with a sneezing hex.

"Whadja go'n do that for?" Harry groaned, after the worst of it had subsided.

"You wouldn't wake up otherwise. Besides, we're late. Breakfast is about to start. Neville, Seamus, and Dean have already gone down."

Harry rolled out of bed and sneezed again. Hedwig, his snowy white owl in her cage beside his bed, opened her eyes and gave a sleepy hoot.

"'Lo, there," he said, stroking her feathers. "Glad to see you made it up all right. Sorry if the train startled you."

Ron stuffed a few textbooks into his bag. "You know, you're lucky to have me. When Crookshanks woke us up, the bloody cat, he kept clawing and howling something awful—and I saw you must have fallen asleep with your dad's cloak on because you were missing your arse and half your legs. If I hadn't wrestled it off you and threw it under your bed in time, Neville and Dean would've seen it."

"Oh…thanks," said Harry, rummaging in his chest for some socks. He already had his clothes on from last night and decided they would do. Stuffing his feet into his shoes and grabbing his bag, he left with Ron, sneezing as he went.

Merlin, was he exhausted.

Ginny was waiting for them and Hermione as they came down the stairs.

"Well, there you are! I've been up for hours, where've you lot been?" she said as they climbed out of the entrance hole.

"You know, you _could _sleep-in every once in a while," said Ron.

"Why? So I can be late for breakfast every morning and start looking like you two?" Ginny said snidely. "No, thank you."

Harry hurriedly tried to smooth out his hair, and Ron ran his hands over his rumpled robes. It was rather pointless, however, and they soon gave up.

"Your bloody cat was being bloody awful as usual, 'Mione" said Ginny as they ducked under the tapestry on the fourth floor and took the shortcut down. "He woke me up last night."

"I'm sorry, Gin," Hermione said tiredly. "He must've been trying to tell you that something was wrong—"

"Yeah, well I don't speak Kneazle," Ginny sneered.

"GINNY! Merlin, just lay off her, would you?" Ron finally exploded.

She stopped in the middle of the stair. Harry took pity on her and stayed with her while Ron and Hermione went on ahead.

"Look, Ginny, Hermione had a rough night…" he explained to her in a low voice. He told her what happened in a few sentences or less, and she gasped.

"She was crying _blood_? Merlin, that's scary…"

"Yes, so just ease off, all right? Maybe help us watch her...make sure she doesn't overdo it…"

"Harry, this is Hermione you're talking about. Of course she is going to overdo it."

They ran to catch up with the others.

"Merlin, I'm starving," Ron was groaning. "Why do we have stairs in Hogwarts anyway? Why can't we have those Muggle doohickeys called...what was it...veletaters?"

Harry snorted.

"Elevators," Hermione corrected him. "And I suppose we could—the Ministry has graduated to lifts—but I'm not quite sure how it would work out with Hogwarts' magic. Besides, there would be nowhere to _put _them. And anyway, the exercise is good for you. With as much as you eat..."

They turned onto the third-floor corridor where Peeves had just come out of a classroom. He was rubbing his hands gleefully and talking to himself.

"That should take care of the Bloody Baron, yes it should. Gives me time to have a little fun without him breathing down my—_oooohh,_ but if it isn't the Crackpot and his wee little friends!" he said, spotting them.

Peeves floated on his stomach in mid-air, came up to Harry's face until their noses were two inches apart, and prodded Harry's scar.

"HELLO! Is old Moldy-warts in there? Peeves to Moldy-warts! Peeves to Moldy-warts!"

Harry knocked his hand away and went around him, face red. Apparently, Peeves had somehow heard that Voldemort had been possessing Harry's mind last year. If Peeves knew, who else did?

"Oh, bugger off, you slimy git," said Ron behind him.

"Tut, tut, tut, the Weasel must watch his language! Wouldn't want his mummy to send him another Howler, now, would we?" said Peeves in his annoying sing-song voice.

Ginny swore at him, and Peeves cackled.

"Peeves—what did you do to the Bloody Baron?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

He floated over to her and went underneath her legs. "Wouldn't _you _like to know? But Peevesy shan't tell—'tisn't wise to reveal one's secrets!"

"OI! Get out from under there!" said Ron, taking a swipe at him. But Peeves simply dodged him and zoomed away, cackling.

"He's as bad as Fred and George," said Ron, glaring after him. "Er...right then. Breakfast."

They had just descended the marble staircase, however, when their breakfast plans were interrupted.

"Potter, Granger, Weasley...not you, Weasley, the other one. If I may see you in my office," said Professor McGonagall, striding in from the Great Hall.

"But—" said Ron, looking longingly at the food on the tables.

"Now!" she barked.

Perplexed, Harry and Ron exchanged looks before spinning on their heels and following Hermione and McGonagall back up the stairs. Ginny shrugged forlornly at them, and went off to breakfast.

"Psst! Hermione!" Ron whispered. "What's this about?"

"How am I supposed to know?" she snapped, shaking his arm from her sleeve.

"Well—you're the teacher's pet—you're supposed to know everything—"

"I am not the 'teacher's pet'," she hissed. "And I _don't _know—"

"Pet or not, you ought to know what I want you three for, Miss Granger. You've only been waiting all summer to find out," said Professor McGonagall, reaching her office and holding the door open for them.

Hermione turned pink as she sat down. "Then this _is _about our O.W.L.s?"

"It is indeed," McGonagall seated herself behind her desk and rummaged through a few stacks of parchment. "The school is terribly sorry about your misplaced O.W.L. results. We weren't notified that they hadn't been received until last week. As it is, the three owls delivering them have also been missing—a most unusual occurrence—they don't often go rogue. I have copied your scores for you, however, none of the notices we place in with the results for upcoming sixth- and seventh-year students could be copied, so after I hand you your results and we set up schedules for the three of you, I shall summarize the year's happenings and the privileges given to the two top years—"

"Privileges?" Ron brightened at this.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, privileges," said McGonagall. "Ah, here we are."

She whipped out three folded envelopes, each with the Hogwarts seal impressed in wax. Harry took his from her and saw **Harry James Potter **scrawled on the front. He flipped it over and opened it.

"_Blimey!_ Professor—this can't be right, this has seven O.W.L.s—and an '_Outstanding'_—you gave me the wrong one—" said Ron, reading his own, and trying to hand it back to McGonagall.

"On the contrary," she said, a rare smile crossing her face. "Professor Hagrid seems to have been...overly generous when it came to you three. Of course, I can't say you didn't deserve it...I'm sure you have, in your own way..."

"Blimey," Ron repeated to himself. "Me...an 'Outstanding'! Even Charlie never got one...only Bill and Perce..."

Amused, Harry glanced over at Hermione to share a grin at their friend's expense. But she was hunched over her own results, wavy hair falling forward and hiding her face from view.

Harry was just about to ask her what she had got when Ron said, "Switch, Harry?"

Harry handed his results over and took Ron's.

Like Harry, Ron had also failed Divination and History of Magic—"No surprise, that," said Ron—and received an "O" in Care of Magical Creatures. Harry felt a swell of affection rise in his chest for their half-giant professor. But Ron had only got an "E" in Defense Against the Dark Arts where Harry had also got an "Outstanding". They both got an "A" in Astronomy and Herbology and an "E" in Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions—all due to Hermione correcting their homework, Harry knew. But still Harry was surprised at this last; wouldn't Snape have jumped at the chance to fail them?

"You forget, Mr. Potter," McGonagall explained, and Harry realized too late that he said his query aloud. "O.W.L. results are judged by your O.W.L. exams in front of the Ministry board of examiners. However, they also draw on previous years' exams and the results of the entire year's labor. Taking Care of Magical Creatures for an example; Professor Hagrid has only ever given you outstanding marks, and your results from the exams do not contradict him. As for Potions, yours and Mr. Weasley's grades aren't nearly as bad as Professor Snape has led you to believe."

"But it's still not enough to become an Auror," Harry said glumly. "Snape will only let in 'Outstanding' students to his N.E.W.T. classes. You said so yourself."

"Then I shall congratulate you two on entering N.E.W.T.-level Potions, as _Professor _Snape has recently agreed to let in 'Exceeds Expectations' as well," she said, a triumphant smile sneaking across her face. "Receiving only three 'Outstanding' students out of you sixth-years has made him reconsider. Though I'm certainly not complaining, I do wonder why he seems to have trouble teaching you lot. This isn't like his usual dozen..."

Harry's mind drifted from McGonagall's musings to his newly resurrected dream of being an Auror—just like his dad and godfather.

Apparently, Ron was in the same euphoria. "Aurors! I've always wanted to be an Auror—and did you know, none of my brothers are one—I'll be the first—_oh no, you don't!"_

His shout jolted Harry back to the present as both he and McGonagall jumped.

Ron was staring flabbergasted at Hermione, who was trying to stuff her results into her bag without them noticing.

"Are you _mad?_" said Harry.

"Hermione, what did you get? Come on, show us! It's not like you failed at anything like us. What did you get?" Ron was trying to snatch Hermione's results out of her hand, but she wouldn't let him.

"It's not that important, Ron. You already know I passed everything, just tell me what you got," she said, trying to hide her paper from view.

Harry was almost as interested as Ron now in seeing her results. She hadn't said a word since she got them, and now she was trying to hide them and pretend they didn't matter in a very un-Hermione-like way.

"Come on, there's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure you did great—_aha!_" crowed Ron, snatching her O.W.L. results away from her.

Hermione made a grab for them and missed.

Professor McGonagall just watched them, bemused, as Ron held the parchment between him and Harry and opened it. Harry scanned the results with him—which didn't take long, as they all said the same thing.

"Bloody hell!" said Ron.

"'It's not that important'?" said Harry, turning on her. "You didn't just pass, Hermione, you got an 'Outstanding' in every single class! You call that 'not important'?"

"How in Merlin's name did you get an 'O' in Astronomy?" said Ron, swiveling around. "Hagrid and McGonagall were both being attacked—!"

Hermione was beat-red. "If you must know, I had already finished when that started! Besides, it's not a big deal. I'm sure it happens all the time. Right, Professor?"

"Actually, Miss Granger, it doesn't. We've only had three wizards to receive an 'O' in every one of their classes in the past century. One was Lars Lazarus of Ravenclaw in 1969—he later became head of the Department of Mysteries. The other was...ahem...Tom Riddle in 1943. He...well...yes. And the last was Albus Dumbledore, back in 1897. He got thirteen O.W.L.s—of course, this was back when they offered Healing as an elective—"

Harry and Ron looked at Hermione, impressed.

Ron said, "You can do anything you want once we get out of Hogwarts. Think about it—anything! Bet you'll get loads of offers from the Ministry the minute after we're graduated. Hell, you'll prolly be in _charge _of the Ministry by then, if this new duffer we've got now is as bad as Fudge..."

"I wouldn't call Minister Bones a 'duffer' just yet, Mr. Weasley. Now if you three wouldn't mind, we must get started with figuring out your schedules and which subjects you'll be dropping..." Professor McGonagall went right to it, giving them each their options.

As Harry and Ron failed Divination and History of Magic, there was no way they'd be able to retake the subjects. Both of them were relieved to see them go.

"No more goblin rebellions every Monday," said Ron.

"No more Trelawney predicting my death every Friday," said Harry.

Harry was immediately cleared for Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures. Over the summer, the three of them had discussed dropping Hagrid's class as it was rather dull; but buoyed by their 'O's, Harry and Ron decided to keep it.

Hermione debated for a moment whether she should keep this class or History of Magic, and then on a whim decided to keep them both, instead dropping Astronomy and Herbology.

"That still leaves you with eight classes, and seven of those are the hardest courses Hogwarts has to offer. Are you sure you don't want to drop Ancient Runes or Arithmancy, Miss Granger? You will be having the five main classes twice a week for two hours a session, and we wouldn't want you to have another year like your third..."

"Yes, I'm sure," Hermione said, pleased with the new schedule she now held in her hands.

Harry and Ron, however, weren't so sure.

In an effort to boil his classes down to five, Harry dropped Herbology and Astronomy, as neither were needed for him to become an Auror. Ron teetered on the edge before he followed Harry's lead and dropped them as well.

"Pity we have to keep Potions," he said bitterly. "Being an Auror sure better be worth it..."

Harry sat back in his chair after this, as McGonagall wrote up his schedule. It would certainly be a change, not having to go to the tower every Wednesday night and stargaze. He idly wondered if Neville would miss them in Herbology...or if they would miss wrestling the Venomous Tentacula or seeding puffapods.

"Now we have that settled..." said McGonagall.

She handed them their new course schedules and Harry saw with a grin that Defense Against the Dark Arts was scheduled for Monday, as well as Charms and a free period.

She leaned forward in her seat and looked at them over her spectacles.

"The notices we sent out over the summer are simple," she told them. "Just reminders about the responsibilities of the N.E.W.T. schoolwork and those that come with being the oldest students in Hogwarts as well. Bearing in mind that prefects aren't the only ones expected to be examples for the younger students to look up to; the staff is expecting you to watch over any student who may need help, as well as keeping a weather eye open—especially in circumstances like Hogsmeade weekends."

"So..." Ron interrupted, "You're expecting us to _baby-sit?"_

"With a tone like that, yes I am, Mr. Weasley," she said.

"But—"

"This has something to do with the war, doesn't it?" Harry said. "I mean, it's most likely that Hogwarts will be targeted—it already has, really, considering what they did to the tracks and what Dumbledore said about it not being the last time they'll attack—and I'll bet my broomstick that Hogsmeade will be as well—and now that Voldemort's back—"

"You-Know-Who if you would, Mr. Potter. And yes, you are right. The staff will be needing help from the older students while they are strengthening the outer defenses. And since we have the Order with us at Hogwarts, it—well," she stopped, realizing to whom she was talking to, and put on a more business-like manner. "But this is neither the time nor the place to discuss it. Instead, Professor Dumbledore has arranged for a monthly meeting between the staff and a few Order members for us to discuss the tactics of war and go over a few Hogwarts safety issues. As well, the Headmaster has asked that several seventh-years attend—"

"_What?" _Ron exploded.

"But what about _us_—" Harry said.

"Shouldn't the sixth-years—" Hermione started.

"_But _as this information has not yet been divulged to the school, you will not go telling anyone! And neither will you go about trying to sneak into the meetings yourselves, or you will be severely punished. Is that understood?" she said sternly.

"Yes, professor," they chorused glumly.

"The notices also stated that as Madam Hooch and Professor Umbi—_Umbridge _have both resigned, we would be looking for new replacements, as you well know already. And now, as to the privileges given to the sixth- and seventh-years… You will note that you now have explicit use of the library until ten o'clock of every night, in order to help with your heavier coursework. As well, the study hall on the ground floor is restricted for N.E.W.T. students, and the lounge hall on the fourth floor is a place of relaxation and retirement for those years as well—"

"Wicked!" said Ron.

"—and if I could _stop_ being interrupted, I will now tell you what the passwords are," she said, glaring over her paper at Ron.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione, who looked very pleased with this news—no doubt for two different reasons.

"It is up to the Head Boy and Head Girl to alert you when there's been a password change—however it has been left to me to tell you that this month's password for them both is 'Grammarye'. And lastly," Professor McGonagall finished, "Trips into Hogsmeade will still be allowed, but as that requires stepping out of the enchantments surrounding Hogwarts, teachers will be escorting students through the tunnel that opens inside of Honeydukes for added protection. You will be notified of your Hogsmeade weekends by your Head of House. As is such, I can now inform you that your first pass is the first weekend in October."

Harry and Ron grinned at the thought of spending the weekend at the twins' joke shop.

"Now I imagine you'll be wanting to go, as classes start in fifteen minutes and you've yet to eat..."

Hermione stood up and thanked the professor for fixing their schedules, and Harry and Ron belatedly joined her. As they were exiting, however, Professor McGonagall held Harry back.

"Ah, yes, I almost forgot to give you this, Potter," she said, handing him a badge.

Harry looked at it.

"'Gryffindor Quidditch Captain'?" he read in disbelief. "But, professor, I—"

"You will have no qualms and save your energy for training your new team," she said sternly. "I will not have you kicked off the team like last year, and I will not see our Cup pass back into Slytherin hands. Heaven knows it took me long enough to polish the slime off it—"

Ron snorted.

"But Professor Umbridge banned me from Quidditch," said Harry. "She never lifted it before she was...er..."

"If _she _does not like it, she can come see _me_ about it," McGonagall stated, nostrils flared. "I'd like to see her try! However, she won't be seeing the outside of the Insanity Ward for a while. As it is, you are hereby unbanned from Quidditch. Congratulations."

Ron snorted at her matter of fact attitude.

"Try-outs have been scheduled for the third Saturday in September at ten o'clock sharp. You will need to hold auditions for every slot on the off-chance that someone out-performs you. Gryffindor will be playing the first match this season on the 26th of October, the weekend before Halloween, opposite Ravenclaw—I suggest you start training for it today. Here is a list of games for the entire season—unfortunately Professor Snape has asked for the last match of the season to be Gryffindor versus Slytherin—I've no idea why. I will find out, of course, in case he has something up his sleeve...I never speak ill of my colleagues, but he _is _a Slytherin and—_well_? _Why aren't you taking your schedule, boy?"_

"Professor—there must be someone else—I can't possibly—"

"You _will _be captain or I will personally take one-hundred and fifty points from my own House for your idiocy, Potter!" McGonagall growled.

Alarmed, Harry took it.

"Never thought I'd see the day when I'd need to force you to become a Quidditch leader..." she said, shaking her head. "Now off with you before you miss breakfast."

She closed her door and they headed off down the hall.

"She can be a bit frightening at times, you know," said a passing ghost, nodding sagely.

"Can you believe this year, though?" said Ron. "A free lounge—wonder what's in it. I heard Fred once or twice talk about a mirror that shows the future. Hey, I wonder if there's a pool in there—no, can't be, we've got one of those already in the prefect's bathroom..."

"Congratulations on getting Quidditch Captain, Harry!" said Hermione, a bit hesitantly. "Though that was rather odd of Professor McGonagall, wasn't it?"

"Odd? That was bloody brilliant! Didn't know she had it in her, personally... 'Heaven knows it took me long enough to polish the slime off it'...ha! You know, she isn't half-bad. She's rather funny," said Ron, walking with a skip. "And as for you, Hermione! That—wow—Albus Dumbledore!"

His stomach rumbled and Harry and Hermione shared bemused looks.

However, their breakfast plans were foiled when Harry stepped off the marble staircase and into the entrance hall—stopping in his tracks.

"Oof—ow, Harry, what was that for?" moaned Ron, rubbing his head. Then he looked up. "Oh, bloody—"

"Heavens!" said Hermione.

Inside the Great Hall, its doors wide open, everything was chaos. The four long house tables were floating in mid-air just beneath the candles. The long benches and chairs clattered loudly against each other as they scraped across the floor in a sort of dance. And high above the racket came a familiar cackle.

"PEEVES!" Professor McGonagall shouted, shoving past Harry, Ron, and Hermione to get into the Great Hall. "Come down here this INSTANT!"

Peeves the Poltergeist cackled some more and swooped down low enough to snatch McGonagall's hat before he soared again above their heads.

"Come down there, you said, and come down there I did! Should be more specific, shouldn't you? Ha HA!"

He zoomed underneath the Ravenclaw table, then resurfaced with McGonagall's hat perched atop his own bell-covered head singing loudly.

"_There once was a terrible witch named McGonagall_

_Who found that she lost her dear hat so conical,_

_She grew red and livid till she looked quite comical_

_And Peevesy laughed and called it all ironical!"_

By now there was a large gathering of students in both the entrance hall and Great Hall and many were chuckling and snickering behind their hands.

It was a sign of great loyalty and their long-standing past with her that Harry, Ron, and Hermione did not find it funny.

Professor McGonagall, red in the face, pointed her finger at him and said, "I'm WARNING you, Peeves! I'm going to fetch the Bloody Baron!"

But instead of calming down and righting the magic he'd done like he would normally do once the Bloody Baron was mentioned, Peeves only turned upside-down and blew raspberries at McGonagall. Harry remembered suddenly their encounter with Peeves that morning and what he had said—or didn't say—about the Bloody Baron.

"Help! HELP! She's going to send the moldy ghosty after me!" Peeves yelled loudly, zooming around the chandelier in the entrance hall before plopping McGonagall's hat on a golden sconce.

He suddenly swooped down the banister, causing several first-years on the jammed staircase to shriek in alarm. Professor Bathsheba Babbling, who taught Ancient Runes, ushered the younger students away from the railing as he came down again with a "WHEEEEEE!"

Peeves made another round down the banister, and as he passed Harry, Ron, and Hermione, he made a grab for Hermione's cloak, which had been slung over her bag at her side.

"Hey—!" she said, but he zoomed away before she could get it back.

Cackling nastily, Peeves slung her cloak over his shoulders, put McGonagall's hat back on his head, and strutted around the levitating tables, using a candlestick as his wand.

"Soldiers...MARCH!" he shouted, conducting the buoyant candles in the Great Hall to bob quite comically into the entrance hall.

McGonagall, meanwhile, took this new diversion to extract herself from the gathering students. She rolled up her sleeves and started working on bringing the House tables down from the ceiling.

Peeves, seeing she was thus preoccupied, grinned evilly and turned to his waxen army. "Soldiers...ATTACK!"

Students screamed out as candles started clubbing all of them. Harry whacked a candle away from him several times—they didn't hurt, but they were rather annoying. He saw Hermione pull out her wand and make the one nearest her melt into a puddle of wax on the floor. He aimed his wand and copied her.

Ron, meanwhile, seemed unperturbed by the two candles beating his stomach and was jumping up, trying to catch Hermione's cloak from Peeves, who bobbed several feet above him. Peeves was rather beside himself at the mayhem he had caused, turning somersaults in the air, his laughter heard above the noise.

_This is ridiculous, _Harry thought, gazing around the entrance hall. Then, amidst the commotion, there came a shout.

"_Intertio!"_ said a deep voice near the great oak doors, a wand pointing straight at Peeves.

What happened next was very peculiar indeed. A funny look crossed Peeves' face and he suddenly seized up, his body as rigid as a broomstick. He made a horrible retching sound, rather like Mrs. Norris coughing up a hairball—and then he vanished.

At once, the candles came crashing down, breaking into pieces on students' heads or the floor. The chairs and benches in the Great Hall stopped dancing, and the last of the House tables fell to the floor with a crash.

All eyes turned to the outer doors, where Viktor Krum was standing with a bemused smile, wand still held out in front of him. He noticed the stares and grew flushed, tucking his wand back into his black arm holster.

"My apologies," he stated with a curt dip of his head. "Ve got much of his type back at Durmstrang, and that spell alvays took care of them. He vill reappear in an hour or so, I belief."

"Yes—well—thank you, my young man," said Professor McGonagall, readjusting her hat and looking rather flustered. "I will remember that in the future."

She turned to the six dozen students gathered in the entrance hall, the staircase, the first-floor hall that overlooked the scene, and the ground-floor corridor that opened into the courtyard.

"Well, what are you all standing around for? Back to your classes!" she barked. "The entertainment is over and the bell rang five minutes ago! If you're not in your classrooms and at your desks in five minutes, the first student I see will spend detention with me scrubbing the Owlery!"

That certainly got the students hustling.

"Has anyone seen my—"

"Here, Her-mione." Viktor Krum appeared in front of her, brandishing her cloak. "Let me help you to put it on—"

Hermione turned a delicate shade of pink, but let him help her into her cloak.

"You haff something in your hair—"

"Oh! Thanks, Viktor, but—"

Ron turned abruptly away as Krum drew a lock of curls from her face and pulled out a piece of wax. If Hermione wasn't pink before, she was cherry red now, and rather avoided Harry's eyes as Krum hefted her bulging bag over his shoulder as easy as if it weighed little more than an ounce.

"Come," he said. "I vill escort you to your next class..."

They left just as McGonagall spotted Harry and Ron, the last two in the entrance hall.

"Oh, good. Potter, Weasley, could I just ask you to clean this up quickly before you head to your next class? Tell Flitwick my apologies—he'll understand—now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to teach."

She bustled away.

Ron swore loudly, making three passing first-years look at him, impressed.

"Well, come on," said Harry. "Shouldn't take too long. If we hurry, perhaps we could nick something from the kitchens before class."

It should have taken a few minutes, but as Ron was rather red in the face from the Krum encounter and he was complaining about his empty stomach, he kept blowing up candles instead of Vanishing them, creating splattered wax all over the walls.

In the end, it took them twenty minutes to successfully make the hall candle-free; but at last they finished, turned around, and hurried up the stairs to Double Charms.


	10. His Worst Fear

**HIS WORST FEAR**

Ron's stomach growled.

He scowled at the textbooks they were supposed to be Summoning. They were lined on a table at the front of the Charms classroom, and none of them were going anywhere.

_Stupid things. We already know how to do the Summoning Charm, so why do we have to learn it all over again?_

When he voiced this after he and Harry had come in, however, Professor Flitwick simply beamed.

"Ah! That is the trick, you see? The first thing any student learns in their N.E.W.T. classes is how to repeat all the spells they've learned so far—_without talking!"_

"But that's im—" said Dean Thomas.

"Possible! So it is—see here!" Flitwick raised his wand, gave it a flick, and the potted plant he'd been pointing at raised into the air and hovered above their heads—all without a word from their teacher.

"Wicked!" said a Ravenclaw in the back.

Ron had to admit—non-verbal spells were rather cool. It would certainly give him a wand up on Malfoy, if he were to jinx him in the corridors. Or this stupid Slytherin sitting next to him—Professor Flitwick had thought it would be a good idea to pair up the Houses for some reason and made Ron sit next to Zabini, a dark boy with rather fixed eyes.

_Well, at least he wasn't in that compartment on the train, _was the only bright side he could see in all of this. If it had been Nott or Wilkes or Urquhart…

He sighed and tried to concentrate on zooming the book towards him.

_I can do this. This is easy._

The problem was trying to achieve it.

For the first ten minutes there had been several textbooks soaring into waiting hands—Ron's being one of them—but Flitwick found out they'd simply whispered the incantation instead. Thus it was, he cast a Silencing Charm on them, in the hopes that it would help them.

It didn't.

Already, an hour and a half had passed and all of the N.E.W.T. students were still purple-faced and tight-lipped trying to accomplish the simple charm without saying the actual charm.

_Why did it have to be textbooks, anyhow? Why couldn't it have been pillows, like in fourth year...I'd actually want to Summon some of those just so I could take a nap before lunch._

He raised his wand for what seemed like the hundredth time, gave it a fruitless wave, thought _Accio! _and nothing happened.

His stomach growled again.

_Damn spell. Damn textbook. Damn class._

Ron was in a bad mood.

_Went to bed late, thanks to Harry—Accio!—Woke up early, thanks to Hermione—_Accio!—_Missed breakfast, thanks to McGonagall—_ACCIO!—_Paired up with a Slytherin, thanks to Flitwick—ACCIO!_

_So now they happen to be my least favorite people in the world at the moment. May they blow up a potion that gives them spattergroit._

He glanced over at Harry and Hermione, who were sitting rather close to each other in the next aisle. Unlike Ron, they hadn't been separated from each other and could at least have written conversations if they couldn't talk. And that's exactly what they were doing—taking turns writing on a parchment under the desk where Flitwick couldn't see while the other cast the spell that—as usual—did nothing.

Ron had no clue what Harry had done to make Hermione write notes in class. She was always the one tutting irritably when Ron and Harry did it, and now she was doing it herself!

_She'll never write notes to me, but since it's _Harry...

Ron felt the familiar wave of jealousy roll over him. He knew it well—during fourth year in particular it came every time he looked at Harry in that first term. He learned from it, of course, after watching how each task played out, glad as all hell he wasn't the one battling the dragon or swimming non-stop for an hour or running around a messed-up labyrinth with twenty-foot spiders. He shuddered.

But then came fifth year and Ron oddly hadn't felt jealous at all. With Harry being verbally attacked at every turn by the Daily Prophet and its readers (which was the entire wizarding world), Ron felt pity more than anything.

And now that wizarding kind knew about Voldemort, they were throwing themselves prostrate before Harry and Dumbledore, quite like they had back in his first and fourth years. Harry was some kind of chosen hero, all the girls were fawning over him, all the boys wanted to be him...

And Ron was simply the "sidekick". The one who always got left in the shadows, the one no one noticed till it was too late, the one who always died in the end, the one who never got the girl...

"Oh! Very well done, Miss Granger!" cried Flitwick.

Ron looked over to see that Hermione had managed to make her textbook come halfway to her—it was now lying in the middle of the floor between her and the table. She smiled, but looked rather put-out it hadn't come any farther.

Ron was torn between smiling at her and scowling. When she glanced over at him, he hastily settled on both, with the result that he looked rather like he had a stomach-ache. She furrowed her brow and looked away.

He focused some more at the front of the class and tried Summoning some bits of chalk. They didn't move. He turned towards Flitwick's desk and stared longingly at the bowl of fruit, imagining peeling the banana to reveal the ripe, plump meat within. After he was done devouring that in his head, he started on the green, juicy apple. He could almost feel the sweet juice rolling down his chin—

_Why 'almost'? _said a voice in his head. _You want it, don't you? So go get it! You can show them all...show them all that you're not the sidekick...that you're the hero...that you're the one who's going to save everyone...show them all..._

Ron's mouth watered as he focused on the apple, flicked his wand, thought _Accio!—_

And to his complete and utter amazement, the apple came zooming towards him.

He caught it deftly in his hand and stared at it. He wasn't the only one—everyone in the class was staring at him in incredulity.

"Bravo! Bravo, Mr. Weasley! Not quite what I had in mind, but jolly good! Now tell the class—how did you do it?" Flitwick asked.

Ron opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

"Oh, pardon me." Flitwick cast his wand about the room and the Silencing Charm was lifted. "Well?"

"Er...well, it was easy, really..." said Ron, embarrassed. "I guess…I just _wanted _it, and it came."

"Aha! You see, that's the trick! When all of you, class, want hard-earned knowledge as much as Mr. Weasley wanted to eat, then you will have learned something. Class dismissed! And for homework, I would like three feet on the advantages and disadvantages of non-verbal spells and what they've accomplished in the last six-hundred years. And don't forget to practice every chance you get!"

As one, the class got to their feet and grabbed their bags. Ron leaned back in his chair, thoroughly pleased with himself.

"That was brilliant, Ron!" said Harry, chuckling.

"Very good! I only wish that I could have got my textbook more than halfway. But—Ron, that was fantastic! I didn't know you could do that!" Hermione said, flushed.

"I always knew he had it in him," stated Harry, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Just put food in front of him, and he can do anything."

Ron just grinned under their praise, propped his feet up on the desk in front of him, and took a bite out of his well-earned apple.

Perhaps life wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

It was their lunch break in the Great Hall, and Harry and Ron had just come in from their free period. Hermione'd had Ancient Runes and so couldn't join in their game of Exploding Snap. She came back with loads of homework and kept muttering about Professor Babbling being in a foul mood.

"Cheer up, 'Mione," Ron had said, his mouth full when she came in. "'Ere, 'ave some buttermilk."

Hermione's nose wrinkled. "No, thank you."

They hadn't been there long when Seamus and Dean came over to their table.

"So," said Seamus Finnegan, setting his bag on the ground with a _thump_ and sliding in beside Lavender. "How bad d'ye reckon our teacher will be this year?"

"Whoever this Jones witch is, she _can't _be as bad as Umbridge," Dean Thomas said fervently.

At Dean's words, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, who had already eaten and were discussing the highlights of their Divination class, took a break from their gushing and laughed at Dean.

"That's not even possible," said Lavender now, flipping her hair. "_Nobody _can be as bad as Umbitch."

"She isn't," Hermione answered for them. They looked at her; she turned faintly pink. "That is, I have it on good authority that she isn't. I was talking to Professor Lupin this morning."

That seemed to satisfy them, and they went back to lopping rolls and turkey slices onto their plates. Harry and Ron, however, continued to look at her.

"Well, I was!" she whispered defensively.

"I don't doubt you for a minute," said Ron. He pulled his own plate towards him, almost protectively. "Pass the ham and cheese."

"—think Professor Lupin was the best," Neville was saying when Harry had tuned back in to their conversation. "Whatever Professor Jones teaches us this year can't be better than his lessons."

"No, you got it wrong, mate," said Dean. "Lupin was cool, but Moody—well, the Fake Moody—now he knew his stuff. His lessons were wicked!"

"Yeah, he was great," Harry said irritably into his mashed potatoes. "If you discounted the fact that he was a Death Eater, tortured and locked a man in his trunk for ten months, performed the Unforgivable Curses on half the school, killed his father, Imperiused Krum, attacked Fleur, and handed me off to Voldemort, he was a swell guy!"

He stabbed his turkey.

There was a sharp kick to his shins under the table and he looked up to find Neville, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati all staring at him. Hermione, meanwhile, was glaring at him for his lack of subtlety, and Ron had simply paused in chewing his mashed potatoes.

When he saw the tension on the table, Ron cleared his throat.

"Er...yeah, well..." he said, as if this trumped everything, "Lupin's a werewolf!"

Seamus and Dean snorted, and Parvati and Lavender went back to their own conversation. Apparently, this fact was old news.

"Right...well...I just hope she's not too boring," said Seamus. "Remember first year? Quirrell could put me to sleep like me Mam can me baby sister. Although—you know—that might not be too bad—"

"I liked Lockhart. His lessons were always interesting—not scary like Moody's or Lupin's," said Lavender, with a shiver. It seemed that she and Parvati had decided that this conversation was much more interesting than whether or not Stephen Cornfoot was dating anyone.

Seamus and Dean snickered at this pronouncement, and Ron snorted into his buttermilk.

"Lockhart was rubbish," said Hermione airily. "He couldn't have taught us something if his life depended on it, and he was a fraud. The only good thing about him was that he was passable at Memory Charms."

"I forget—what happened to him?" asked Parvati.

"He Confunded himself," said Ron, sniggering at the memory.

Hermione took another bite of her sandwich roll. "As I said—he was rubbish."

"And since when did _you _get over your goo-goo eyes and realize this?" said Ron, turning on her.

She looked at him scathingly. "Since I grew up."

"So what will we be learning this year, anyway?" asked Neville.

"General history," said Hermione automatically, still glaring at Ron.

"Are you sure?" Ron looked crestfallen. "I was hoping we could learn some more cool spells this year."

"Cool spells were last year—not that we learned any of that with Umbi—" said Parvati.

"You were a _great _teacher, Harry," Lavender simpered. "I think we should write a petition for you to be our professor!"

"Hey—that's not a bad idea—" Ron said excitedly.

"It is if _Harry _actually wants to learn this year," Hermione scoffed. "And he needs more out of this class than any of us."

"How come?" said Lavender.

"I thought we'd be learning Dark creatures this year?" said Neville.

"No, we learned those in second year—or—hang on—was it third—?" Seamus stopped.

Dean broke in. "Dark creatures was third, Neville. Remember, we learned about werewolves, grindylows, Red Caps—"

"But in second it was pixies, hags, trolls—"

"Werewolves, giants, centaurs—" Hermione broke in, then seethed. "Which leads me to believe that second year wasn't for Dark creatures, it was for _part-_creatures. The nerve of them, though, to put werewolves in with Dark creatures when they already placed them as part-human..."

"Well, you know how you can fix it," said Ron to her quietly. "Take a job as head of the board of governors and change the whole damned thing."

Surprisingly, Hermione didn't chide him for his language.

"What about our fourth and fifth years?" said Neville. "Weren't those both about spells?"

"Yes," answered Hermione, per usual. "But fourth year was more about Dark spells and curses, whereas last year was focused more on defensive ones."

"I wonder what this lesson'll be about?" Dean asked, but the bell rung.

"I dunno, mate," said Ron, grabbing his bag and standing up. "But we'll find out soon enough."

Harry led the way into the long, rectangular Defense classroom on the first floor, the windows covering the entire north wall showed thick, graying clouds that threatened to spill at any moment.

Their usual desks were lined up facing the blackboard, but there were twice as many to fit all the sixth-year N.E.W.T. students.

There were a lot more than Harry thought there'd be—in fact, it looked rather like the whole of the sixth-year class had made it through despite their horrible teacher last year—although Harry noticed there were about half the number of Slytherins in this class.

Harry sat down beside Ron, and Hermione moved into the seat beside Neville in the desk in front of them. The students were all there, but their professor was nowhere to be found.

"Where is she?" said several Hufflepuffs upon entering.

"Perhaps she's changed her mind?" whispered Su Li to Padma Patil.

"Good Godric, I hope so," said Malfoy loudly. He leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on his desk. "Finally, a teacher too chicken to come. Maybe now we can learn this subject under Professor Snape—"

"The day _he_ becomes our Defense teacher is the day I drown myself in the lake," said Harry.

"So hopefully soon, then," Malfoy sneered. "Longbottom, what _are _you doing?"

Harry looked over and saw that Neville seemed to be sharpening his quill the hard way—Hermione had to dodge his dagger more than once, and after a particularly savage jab it broke the quill in half, showering feather strands onto the floor.

Malfoy sniggered. "Did you go to a school for the hopelessly mundane? What do they teach you there—how to count with your shoes on?"

"No," said Professor Jones, striding into the room. "But they do teach about gravity."

As if on cue, Malfoy's chair—tottering on two legs with his full weight—suddenly gave way and he fell to the floor with a crash.

The room roared with laughter as he picked himself up.

"She made it do that," he muttered, his face pink.

"Now," said Professor Jones. "I would like each of you to put your books away, stand up, and follow me. We, class, are going on a trip."

Puzzled, Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other before following Jones out of the classroom. There were several excited murmurs from the students as they walked down the hall and up a flight of stairs. The last lesson they had out of the Defense classroom was with Lupin when they defeated the boggart.

"Are we going to one of the towers?" said Parvati Patil as they ascended another staircase.

"No, Miss Patil. We are going somewhere none of you have ever been before," Professor Jones said.

"That's unlikely," muttered Ron.

"I would advise you not to count your ashwinder eggs before they're hatched, Mr. Weasley," she called back to him. "And never presume that you know everything."

"D'you hear that, Hermione?" said Ron. "Never presume you know everything!"

Hermione whacked him.

Up another flight of stairs, down the fourth floor corridor, past the library, and Professor Jones came to a stop at the end of the hall before the statue of Cliodna.

"_Grammarye_," she said, and the statue bowed and moved to reveal an opening in the wall.

"Oh!" whispered Hermione. "We're at the N.E.W.T. lounge on the fourth floor."

They walked in to find a large room filled with squashed armchairs, loveseats, and couches. The tapestries all featured the House colors and mascots, making the room seem very colorful. Against one wall were desks with a bunch of magical board games and in one corner was a large green-topped table that showed a remarkable model of the Hogwarts stadium, complete with small figurines that zoomed around on command.

"Wicked!" said Ron, examining it.

But Professor Jones walked around all of this to the far end of the room where there was an alcove, bare except for the large golden mirror standing on two clawed feet against the stone wall.

Several of the students gasped. Harry was one of them.

"I can't believe it!" Harry whispered. "It's the Mirror of Erised!"

"What?" said Hermione.

"Whoa," said Ron.

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He was too astonished—the last he saw of this mirror was back in first year when he came upon it quite by accident. It showed him his parents, his grandparents, distant cousins and great-uncles and aunts. It showed Ron as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain, the best of all of his brothers. And when Harry was facing Quirrell and Voldemort in the last chamber off the third-floor corridor, it actually gave him the Philosopher's Stone.

He thought he would never see it again…and yet here it was standing before him now, whole and intact, the musty gold frame, the reflection that showed the entire class staring back at them—

He stopped for a second, wondering why it wasn't showing his parents—but then remembered that only one person at a time could stand in front of it for it to show their heart's desire.

As it was, Professor Jones walked right up to it and held her wand out.

"It would be pointless for any of you to try this," she said over her shoulder. "You can try to mimic my wand movements, but as I'll be saying it nonverbally, you won't get very far."

With that, she cast her wand over the mirror's reflection, and the students watched in amazement as the glass rippled—and then disappeared entirely, revealing a stone passage, dark and dank, which led away from the room.

"Whoa!"

"Wicked!"

"Follow me now," she called over the chatter. "Keep your wands out and lit and watch where you step."

They were led down the narrow corridor, which grew darker as they left the brightly lit N.E.W.T. lounge behind them. It kept sloping downward, giving way to spiraling staircases with crumbling stones and cobwebs in every corner. A lot of the girls kept squealing when their hair got caught in a web, and the boys snickered at them.

Ron, tall enough as it was, kept his eyes to the ceiling and ducked every three seconds.

"Scared of spiders, are you?" said Professor Jones, noticing this with a grin. "If I were you, I'd be less concerned about the ones the size of a Knut and much more concerned about the ones the size of erumpents. I hear there are some in the Forest—big, hairy, man-eating spiders…"

Harry held back a snicker. "We've already had to deal with those, thanks."

Ron did not think this was very funny.

"Where _are_ we going?" said Malfoy loudly, dodging a puddle. "This place is a dump."

"To a very special place, known only to those who have been here a rather long time," she answered, wand lit and showing them that the tunneling stairs had ended.

They were now trekking down a long, narrow corridor with packed dirt beneath their feet and wet, cold stone walls. This hallway was longer than the chambers beneath the school that Harry had been to. It was more like the tunnel behind Gunhilda of Gorsemoor that led to Honeydukes—perhaps they were somewhere beneath the Hogwarts grounds?

"I myself came across this place quite by accident," Professor Jones continued. "It gave me a rather nasty shock at the time—I found it on Halloween night and—well, you'll see why."

He saw a light up ahead and noticed that they had reached the end of the tunnel. It sloped upwards and Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed their classmates out into the open air, coming out from a narrow opening in the rock.

Harry looked around them and let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

They appeared to be quite a ways from Hogwarts—he could see the castle's roofs to the south of the clearing they were in. They were on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, he guessed. The trees around the clearing were thinning out and there were a bunch of rocky outcrops that showed how close they were to the mountains. With the trees and the rocks, it was no wonder they'd never seen it from the castle—the only way someone could see this place was if they were soaring straight above them and knew what they were looking for.

As he concentrated on the clearing, however, Harry could see why this place was so secluded.

All around them were headstones.

Small, large, statues, tombs, they were all there. Most of them were so old they were crumbling, but there were some new ones as well, all stretching beyond the trees to the rocks, and even to a small stream trickling through the wooded area.

And in the middle of it all was an elaborate, marble gazebo.

Ivy laced through the old pillars and the ground was etched with carvings—intertwining circles, faded runes, and unrecognizable symbols. The headstones surrounded it like it was a stone king they were all bowing down to.

Harry walked through the gravestones, unaware that all the rest of the sixth-years were likewise fanning out, reading the headstones, examining the gazebo, and talking in whispers. Like him, they seemed captivated by this hushed, unseen place and Professor Jones watched them as they walked around, content with letting them explore. Even Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins were quiet for once, after the initial joke when they came out of the tunnel.

The dark clouds above them rumbled with an impending storm, darkening the clearing and causing a slight breeze. But other than that, it was so quiet and still that a whisper among the students seemed like a shout.

"Blimey," whispered Ron as Harry walked up to him. "I know this fellow. I mean—I know of him. Look!"

_**Dexter Fortescue**_

_**Headmaster from 1883 to 1914**_

"He was the great-grandfather of Florean Fortescue," said Ron. "From Diagon Alley, remember? The ice cream? And here's Armando Dippet…and here's Phineas Black…_and_ Dilys Derwent…"

Harry nodded and they continued down the row. _There aren't just headmasters here, _he noticed. _There's Bridget Wenlock, a famous Arithmancer_…_Ignatia Wildsmith, who invented Floo Powder…_

"Mungo Bonham," Ron read. "Blimey! He set up St. Mungo's…Beaumont Marjoribanks, he did Herbology…all of these people are famous, Harry. I've heard about all of them, look! There's one for Artemisia Lufkin, the first female Minister. And this really old grave with the faded letters, that's Bowman Wright! He invented the Snitch! Phyllida Flitwick…don't know her…Tilly Toke, oh he saved a bunch of Muggles from a dragon. Adalbert Waffling, Justus Pilliwickle, Grogan Stump—he was Minister. Burdock Muldoon…heard Dad talking about him a few times…"

Hermione seemed really impressed with Ron for knowing who a lot of these people were, and Harry could see why.

"They were all taught at Hogwarts," she realized, her voice echoing about the clearing. "All of these people were students once, who lived here, and died here…"

"You are correct, Miss Granger," said Professor Jones behind them, speaking for the first time. She walked to the gazebo and stood at the center of the Hogwarts Cemetery, and the students gathered closer to hear her as she addressed them.

"Every single one of these witches and wizards," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet air. "Came to Hogwarts at eleven years of age, were taught the magic that they grew to be famous for, and graduated to become great leaders and pioneers of their time. And what happened to them, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville started. "They…er…they died."

"And in a hundred years time, where will _you_ be, Miss Smythe?"

"I'll be joining them, I expect," said the redheaded Ravenclaw.

"And will anyone walking by your headstone know who you were? Where you've been? What you've accomplished?" said Jones. "They won't, will they? Not unless you make a name for yourself. Not unless you become a famous spell experimenter, or a great Charms instructor, or a Minister of Magic…or even our next Headmistress."

Hermione stood up a little straighter at this.

"And yet…" said their professor in a dry tone. "None of that is important."

There was a slight murmuring among them at this. Hermione looked confused, and even Harry felt rather baffled.

_How can none of that be important? I thought the whole purpose of Hogwarts was to educate the students to become great magically—don't all the teachers think that?_

"There was one such boy who did make a name for himself," Professor Jones went on. "In the year of 1938 at the age of eleven, he came to Hogwarts, he worked diligently and did everything he was told, he was awarded a medal for the services he did to the school, he became prefect, Head Boy…and after he graduated in '45, he then became known as Lord Voldemort."

The sixth-years gasped, and Harry started. He shivered against the breeze that lingered off the mountains. He wasn't the only one—nearly all of the students were caught up in her dangerous pronouncement.

"Now, _he_ made a name for himself, did he not? He also made sure that everyone knew who he was by becoming one of the most feared and powerful wizards of our time. So what makes him different than all these people we are standing on today, Mr. Potter—that is, aside from the obvious?"

Under normal circumstances, there would have been chuckles, but no one laughed. Most of the students were surprised that Voldemort even attended Hogwarts, or that he did everything Professor Jones mentioned. Surely Hogwarts wouldn't have allowed his like in? Surely they had to know what he would become?

But Harry, who had known all this, answered.

"It's his beliefs that makes him different," he said. "All of these headstones, all of these great people—they are known for the good things they've done for wizarding kind. For saving people from dragons, or leading people during times of trouble, or inventing spells that make life easier, or you know, even making a game more fun. But Voldemort…he's known by all of us, yes, but at what price? He's known for killing dozens of witches and wizards, for setting up this group that does the same, for making people afraid of him…"

He stopped, feeling the eyes of the whole class on him now.

"I mean…well, he's only ever going to be known for how horrible he made people feel. And now…how happy do you think _he _is? He never smiles, he never laughs, he doesn't have any friends…just people who follow him because they're afraid he'll kill them if they don't. So…well, yeah, you could be the greatest wizard ever lived…but if everyone hates you and you've killed your entire family—well, and you're an ugly git to boot—then what's it _worth_?"

There was a silence after these words. The clouds above them rumbled once more and lightning flickered across the mountains, casting the sixth-years and their professor in a dark and shady light, adding gloom to a solemn speech.

"Well said," agreed Professor Jones, then raised her voice to address the class.

"This year, we will be learning about Lord Voldemort. We will learn about who he was before he changed his name—we'll learn how he became who he is now—and what he did to get to where he is. We'll learn his greatest strengths, his greatest weakness—yes, class, even someone like him has a weakness. In fact, it is quite well-known even now. Does anyone here know what his worst fear is?"

Harry raised his hand—he was the only one.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I thought you might. What is it?"

"It's death," he said, putting his hand down. "The old bastard is scared stiff of dying."

There was an outbreak of muttering, exclamations, and whispers.

"Yes, yes, a rather funny thing to be afraid of, don't you think?" said Jones. There were a few chuckles at this. "I'm afraid of dying, I won't lie to you. I'm sure everyone is. But are we willing to murder people in the hopes that they'll pay the debt that _we_ owe?

Her voice rose. "_We all die_. That is the price humans pay. That is the price that everyone beneath you has paid—did it matter how great they were, whether they were pure-blood or Muggle-born? It is inevitable to everyone, and try as you might to become immortal, you _will _die sooner or later. There are some who've delayed it, yes—Nicholas Flamel is one, and let's not forget our own aging Professor Dumbledore—" the sixth-years snickered "—but not even they can stop it entirely, can they? Wizarding kind has always had power, true…but even _we_ cannot equal the gods.

"And this is something that our dear Lord Voldemort will have to learn the hard way. The question is…._when_ you die, as you all will sometime in the future, do you want your headstone to remain nameless, dateless, memory-less? Or do you want to join these great ones, known for what they did and who they were? Do you want only your children to remember you—or the entire wizarding world? And _if_ they do…how will you be remembered? Will it be with love? With respect and honor?" Professor Jones looked around them all. "Or with hate? With horror and fear? Do you want them to flinch with the memory of you…or walk in your footsteps as believers in your morals and aspects?"

Her gaze flickered from student to student.

"This war against Voldemort will define you all. For some, it will be for the best. For others…it will be for the worst. But one thing is certain—it _will_ define your character. All of you will change. It will help to shape you into who you will become. The question is…_who will that person be?"_

There was a large crack of thunder, a shiver of lightning splitting through the trees, and then it began to rain. Instead of running for the cover of the tunnel, however, no one moved.

Professor Jones continued. "In order for you to understand what is happening now and _why_ it is happening, Professor Dumbledore and I thought it best for the lot of you to know as much as you can about the past.

"For the first few months, our subject will be Voldemort. When I've taught you all that I am allowed on that subject, we will move on to the First War—what happened, who died, why they died, and so on. Yes, Miss Granger, this year will be spent in overview of the past, but unlike past years you will be learning about a _specific _past. As well, I will be teaching you spells, both offensive and defensive, for you to use when the time comes. We will be learning battle tactics, I will teach you how to _think _during dangerous situations, and what is more…you will be learning how to fight Death Eaters.

"It is time for you all to grow up," Professor Jones finished. "We are in a war. Whose side are _you_ going to be on?"


	11. Queen of the Mudbloods

**QUEEN OF THE MUDBLOODS**

The rest of the week seemed to fly by for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Much to the disappointment of the students, the weather remained stormy all week and they were stuck indoors. This allowed for a large amount of study time as the homework was piling high; the sixth-years hadn't been stuck with this much work since the weeks preceding their O.W.L. exams. As it was, the professors were teaching with renewed vigor from the summer break, and Harry suspected the attacks over the summer and the knowledge that Voldemort was at large affected this.

The three of them could be seen every evening practicing on their non-verbal spells, which was being taught in Charms and Transfiguration; and Hermione, who had to get it down for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy as well, had been told by Lavender and Parvati that she had taken to practicing it in her sleep.

"Although for most magical folk, non-verbal spells are not as forceful as they would be when spoken, there are still some advantages to them. Can anyone tell me what these are?" said Professor McGonagall during their first Transfiguration class.

Several hands shot up, Hermione's being one of them.

"Yes, Mr. Macmillan?"

He put his hand down and said arrogantly, "My father says that non-verbal is the best way to go during a duel because your opponent can't tell what you'll be throwing at them."

"Your father is correct. Miss Brocklehurst?"

"Aren't they dangerous? Because it's harder to cast them, so it's more likely they'll turn out wrong?"

"That is also correct, which is why only the most accomplished witches and wizards use non-verbal spells in their daily spellwork. Now I would like you all to divide into pairs and each have a go at transfiguring your quills into inkpots…non-verbally, mind you!"

After their class, Hermione remembered that she left her new Potions book back in her dorm and needed to run up to get it before she left for Arithmancy. Harry and Ron accompanied her, as they wanted to play a quick game of wizard's chess during their own free period.

"You know…" Harry said, moving his bishop diagonal three squares. "Neither of us have our Potions things for this year."

"Oh. Yeah. I forgot," said Ron, watching his queen kill Harry's bishop. "Bet Snape'll love that."

"I'm sure he'll understand," said Hermione, coming back down the stairs and stuffing her _Advanced Potion-Making _into her bag.

Harry snorted. He moved his knight in the line of Ron's king, thinking to check him on the next move.

"Snape doesn't know the meaning of the word," said Ron, castling his king and rook.

"But if you were to explain that you didn't know you'd be accepted into his class, I'm sure that—"

"Hermione?" said Harry, moving his pawn up a notch. "You do know that Snape is a selfish git who takes points off me every chance he gets simply because it's what he likes to call _fun?"_

"But surely—"

"Snape disdains to converse with anyone named Shirley," said Ron. "Check."

Harry moved his king.

"And I'm sure that if Harry and I were to explain—check—"

Harry moved his bishop.

"—that Snape would simply look at us—check—"

Harry moved his queen.

"—and dock points for being 'abysmally idiotic fools'—_check_—"

Harry moved his pawn in his last effort to stop Ron from taking his king.

"—before telling us in less-polite terms to sit down, shut up, and pay attention—checkmate!" Ron finished, sitting back.

"Wow," said Harry, looking at his watch. "Less than five minutes. I believe that's a new record."

Ron stood up. "Right. I think it's stopped raining—let's go down to the Quidditch pitch before Potions—could I have a go at the Firebolt, Harry?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and opened the Fat Lady's painting. Harry ran upstairs to grab their brooms before he and Ron joined her.

"Why don't you finish your Charms homework?" she asked them as they escorted her to her Arithmancy class on the ground floor.

"Because this is a _free _period, not a study period," Ron answered.

"Suit yourself," said Hermione "If it were me, though, I'd rather get my homework done now rather than having to worry about it tonight."

"Only you would worry about homework, Hermione," said Ron. "Normal people just do it when they have the time and don't think about it when they don't."

"I worry about homework," Neville said. He was heading for the greenhouses.

"Yeah, but you're weird, like her. Like I said, _normal _people—"

"Hermione's not weird. She just works as best as she can and puts everything else aside while she's working on it until she's done. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. In fact, I think it's rather admirable," said Neville, smiling at her.

Hermione grinned back.

Ron, however, scowled.

* * *

An hour later, Hermione descended the stairs to the dungeons for their first N.E.W.T. Potions class, and met Ron and Harry at the door to Professor Snape's classroom. It seemed that only a dozen people made it through Potions with an "E" or an "O", she noted. Among the three Gryffindors were not only four Slytherins—Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott and Victoria Vaisey—but Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff and Terry Boot, Kevin Entwhistle, Su Li, and Amanda Smythe from Ravenclaw.

Of course, once the Slytherins saw the Gryffindors draw near, they had to act like savages.

"Ooh, look at the Mudblood flounce down the steps, so eager to brew a love potion to stock up her stores," said Victoria Vaisey, laughing at her own cleverness. "How much do you reckon she gives to Weasley and Potter to make them moon and drool over her, Theodore?"

"Must be buckets of it she's giving to them every day," Nott said. "There's no other reason for such pathetic wimps to want to shag a filthy, worthless Mudblood."

Rage reigned supreme in her heart. Before Harry or Ron could even think of doing anything, Hermione slapped Nott right in the face.

The loud smack reverberated around the dungeon halls, and everyone around them stared, aghast.

"That's Queen of the Mudbloods to you!" Hermione sneered.

There was a palpable pause in the air. But Snape was busy with other matters, and didn't deem to come out of his office, leaving Hermione free from the inevitable detention.

She shoved passed the Slytherins and walked into the Potions classroom.

Harry and Ron both followed her, gaping, and very suitably impressed.

"Hermione, that was—"

"Bloody hell…"

"Yeah…"

As they walked in, the room seemed rather different with far fewer tables than the previous five years, and she recognized the powerful scent filling the air at once.

"Mmm, _Amortentia!"_ she murmured.

"Sorry?" said Harry.

Hermione looked over at him and saw the dreamy smile across his face. Ron, likewise, was so caught up in the powerful fumes that he dropped his bag into his cauldron instead of the desk.

She wondered vaguely what Ron got from the love potion.

For her, it was an overwhelming smell of freshly-mown grass (one that she associated with the Burrow), and of new parchment and old books (probably from her love of libraries), and spice and peppermint that reminded her of Mum and Dad. And a new scent…something smelling faintly of pumpkin juice…

She stopped. _What on earth could I love this much that smells of pumpkin juice? Surely not Hagrid…although his pumpkin patch is the only one I know of…_

Hermione took a seat next to Ron. She didn't even notice that Draco Malfoy had already taken the table across the aisle on her other side.

"I do not think that I need to ask you all to stop talking and sit down," said Professor Snape curtly, striding into the room and lighting the sconces on the wall with a flick of his wand.

Even with the light now dancing dimly on the walls, the dungeon room still had an eerie glow that was characterized by the seductive, purplish steam coming out of the large pot on Professor Snape's desk.

"I will not waste my time by welcoming you into N.E.W.T. Potions, especially as only three of you have earned the rights to be here—" he said curtly.

Hermione sat up a little straighter in her seat, knowing she was one of these three. She already knew that she had got the highest marks in Potions, and wondered who the other two were to receive an "Outstanding".

"—however, I trust you to know that N.E.W.T. Potions is the most difficult class you will be taking this year and I will not tolerate less than your absolute best work—although I doubt some of you can even achieve _that_ much—" Snape glanced over at Harry and Ron before continuing on in the monologue he repeated every year to scare his N.E.W.T. students into submission.

Hermione, who had heard it all before, glanced over at the other students. Who else could have gotten an "O"...?

Her gaze landed on Malfoy. His smooth blond hair was sleeked back as usual, showing his cold gray eyes and unfriendly expression. He seemed to be paying Professor Snape his undivided attention as Snape went over what they would be learning in N.E.W.T. Potions and what he expected of them.

_Malfoy…perhaps…_

Ever since Hermione had heard Harry's retelling of what had happened at Borgin and Borkes that day he first used the Floo before their second year, she had been curious as to what priority Malfoy placed his schoolwork.

From what Harry had said, Lucius Malfoy seemed to be the one to push him the hardest to be the best in class and not let a "Mudblood" outscore him. But it couldn't be just that. He worked just as hard in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy as he did in Potions, and Hermione suspected they were his favorite subjects, never mind what his father thought. Perhaps he, like Ernie Macmillan, simply liked them the best because they were the hardest subjects and there was something rather rewarding in being the best at them. Whatever it was, Hermione was certain that Draco Malfoy, pureblood, didn't just excel at them because his father wanted him to. It had to be more than that. Malfoy _wanted _to do his best for himself—not just for his father, or to try to beat Hermione out of the best in the class.

Unaware that she had been staring, Hermione turned faintly pink when Draco Malfoy suddenly turned and looked at her.

Her eyes flitted back to Professor Snape, but she could still feel Malfoy's eyes on her for several minutes after.

"Now as I'm sure you've all been wondering, the aroma drifting from this cauldron is one of the strongest vapors in the world," said Professor Snape, a hand reaching up to draw his black hair from his face as he paced in front of the room. "Are there any among you who can tell me what this potion is, or do none of you deserve to be in here?"

Hermione's hand was in the air before she even knew it was moving. Professor Snape's eyes slid over her, but her hand was the only one up.

He sighed irritably, and Hermione felt a surge of terse irritation. "Very well, then, Miss Granger."

"That's Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world," she replied. "It's very unique in that its steam is expelled in spirals above the mother-of-pearl sheen, and its scent is different to those who are near it, according to what attracts them the most—"

If he could kill her with a look...

"If I had wanted an almost word-for-word answer, Miss Granger_, _I would have opened my book to page thirty-seven," said Professor Snape.

Malfoy and Nott sniggered.

She blushed and turned to the page; however, she was the only one to do so.

"Well?" Snape snapped, looking around the room. "Why aren't you all opening your books?"

Malfoy and Ernie Macmillan did almost at once, but the rest of the class just looked at him.

"Please, sir," said Amanda Smythe, raising her hand. "None of us knew we'd be accepted in—I ordered my book this morning, but it won't be here for a while—"

"Very well, then," said Snape, looking annoyed. "Macmillan, open the corner cabinet and pass out extra copies of _Advanced Potion-Making _by Libatius Borage_._"

"Erm…sir? Why are we starting love potions today? It says here we're supposed to be learning how to do the Draught of Living Death first, and then—" Hermione started, looking down at the list of potions in her book.

"The last I was aware, Miss Granger, I was the teacher of this class, and you were the student," said Snape, advancing on her. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your…_insight…_and if you speak out of turn again, it will be twenty."

Hermione turned a bright shade of pink, and she bit her lip. To her right, Ron and Harry were fuming, and several of the Ravenclaws looked at each other in confusion—apparently, Snape treated only the Gryffindors this way.

Beside her, Ernie plunked a copy of their textbook down on Malfoy's desk.

"Hey!" said Malfoy. "Get this ratty book away from me! I already have one, you oaf."

"Oh, terribly sorry," said Ernie, and grabbed Malfoy's book before plopping some more on the Ravenclaws' desks.

He seemed to have grabbed Malfoy's brand-new copy, however, for Hermione noticed that the "ratty" book was still on the desktop after Ernie moved away. But Malfoy didn't seem to notice as he was now rummaging in his bag for his potion kit.

"Now," Snape continued. "You each have an hour and a half to brew this potion correctly. If any of you so much as takes one drop of it before this class is through, you will be guaranteed detention for the rest of this term. There is a reason why love potions have been deemed illegal, and if I catch any of you sneaking some out, you can guarantee your expulsion from this school. You may start."

He flicked his wand and the instructions appeared on the board, written in Professor Snape's small handwriting and filling the entire wall.

_An hour and a half? _Hermione thought incredulously. _It will take twice that—how does he expect us to finish this in time?_

She hurriedly walked to the potion cupboard and started gathering ingredients, anxious not to waste any more time.

"Professor! Macmillan took _my_ book, the thief, and left me with this disgusting copy—" she heard Malfoy protesting as she added boomslang skin and an augury feather to the small stash in her arms.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are in possession of a textbook, are you not?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"And it happens to be _Advanced Potion-Making, _does it not?"

"Of cou—"

"Then use it," said Professor Snape coldly. "I do not have time for silly first-year squabbles."

Malfoy looked rather put out at being told off by his favorite teacher, and Hermione saw Harry and Ron smirking when she sat back down with her ingredients.

For the next hour, she worked feverishly at getting her potion to look its best. Halfway through with it, she noticed that most everyone else was still working on the first third portion. Malfoy wasn't too far behind her, however; as she stirred her clear potion, she noticed that his was already turning the milky shade of white she was trying to turn hers into.

She looked at him, confused, and watched how he pounded the frozen ashwinder egg to a powder—not with the stoneware mallet from their potion kits, but with the blunt end of his silver dagger. And when he poured the powdered egg into his cauldron—sure enough, it turned the exact pearly-white sheen that was mirrored in the cauldron on Professor Snape's desk.

Malfoy noticed her mouth was agape, and he smirked.

"The best always finish first, Granger," he said in an undertone. "Oh, I notice _yours_ still looks a smoky white—not quite the shade it's supposed to be, is it?"

Hermione fumed silently.

It was as she got up to get the doxy droppings that she saw it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy pull out some hairs off his own head when he thought nobody was looking. And when she came back to her cauldron, he was standing far too close to hers.

Fear, worry, and a creepy sense flooded her.

"Professor—" she started.

But Snape just cast her a withering look.

Nobody else even noticed Malfoy. They were too busy concentrating on their own potions. Harry and Ron were having a horrible time with their own.

Indecision gripped her. Should she tell someone? What if she was wrong? It was very possible she was wrong.

But if she was right, then Draco Malfoy was trying to make Hermione fall in love with him.

With a shaky breath, she walked back to her table.

Nothing amiss appeared in her potion. Malfoy had his back to her, seemingly nonplussed.

_Well...he might have put his hair in it...and he might not have...but it doesn't mean I have to drink it._

With firm resolve, she got back to work.

Professor Snape came over just then to inspect their work. She stopped pounding her egg with her mallet and grabbed her silver dagger. Which was exactly what Malfoy was doing.

_Two can play this game, _she thought, savagely grinding the egg into dust. Just as Snape was looking over Malfoy's, she poured in the last ingredient and hurriedly mixed it in.

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy…very good indeed," he appraised.

"Thank you, sir," Malfoy said, bottling his potion with a flourish.

Professor Snape glanced in Hermione's cauldron and saw that it was still one shade off the color it was supposed to be.

"Hm," he said in a bored voice. "A cheap imitation of Mr. Malfoy's potion. Not up to your usual standards, are you, Miss Granger?"

He left to inspect Harry's cauldron, which showed a murky gray substance that was letting out a stench reminiscent of a bog. Ernie MacMillan stood up and walked in between Hermione's and Malfoy's table. Then it happened.

A loud crash—

Hermione's cauldron, filled to the brim of an almost-perfectly-brewed love potion, fell to the floor—

In an instant, the room was flooded with its contents.

And Hermione was drenched in it.

She stared in disbelief at her drenched robes, her silky wet curls, her sopping school tights. Ron and Harry were staring at her agape, as was everyone else in the class. Had she ingested any of it? Hermione's first thought was one of horror—would being drenched in the potion make her fall madly in love...with _Draco Malfoy_?

Her second thought was one of distrust. Although she had the potion all over her—her lips and face were wet, and there was still a chance it got in her mouth—Draco Malfoy was still the pompous rich-kid he always was. She wasn't clamouring over him just yet.

Snape exploded. Of course he thought it was Ernie Macmillan's fault, and took twenty-five points off Hufflepuff. And what was more, she knew there was no possible way Ernie could have spilled her cauldron as Snape thought.

Hermione fumed silently and looked over at Malfoy. The blond Slytherin—who had previously been disgusted and outraged at having to use the old, ratted copy of _Advanced Potion-Making—_was now smirking as he watched her Vanish the mess on the floor and cast a drying charm on herself.

He grabbed her cauldron on the floor, which still had some of the milky substance in it.

Then Malfoy bent down low to her and, in a voice nobody else could hear, he hissed, "You should keep a better watch on your things, Granger. You never know when someone might _mess_ with you…"

Then Draco Malfoy gave her the cauldron back, and walked away. And as Hermione held it to her chest, entirely spooked by his words, she noticed one very vital thing.

Her cauldron was now completely empty.

"Do you want your Potions book back, Draco?" said Blaise Zabini, who was holding the brand-new copy out to him.

"No. You keep it. This one's just perfect," said Draco Malfoy, smirking as he left the room, patting the ratty book and tucking it under his arm.

Hermione stared after him, suspicion boiling around in her head.

* * *

Of course, Harry and Ron watched Hermione for any signs of being overly smitten after that.

She went to her dorm to shower and change, and they shadowed her till their next class, Care of Magical Creatures.

But she wasn't spouting love songs, her eyes remained normal and firmly in her head, and no lovelorn glances escaped her. It probably just wasn't ingested enough.

With that disaster over and done with, they could release their sighs of relief.

Compared to their other N.E.W.T. classes, Hagrid's class became a breeze. For the very first time, they had an indoor lesson on account of the rain, and Hagrid gave them all a quiz to fill out, detailing practically everything they'd learned the past three years.

"So we've covered all'a Ministry's ratings from X to triple-X. That gives us two more ratings to tackle, righ'," said a subdued Hagrid, picking up their quizzes at the end of the lesson. "Dumbledore reckons we shoul' spend more time coverin' those yer most likely ter see in the war, so be sure dementors'll be up there. Next lesson is abou' Nundu—we haven' got one of those, so expect another indoor."

"That was odd," said Ron as they ate lunch. "No slimy worms to touch, no grabby pincers to manage...I half-expected Hagrid to break out in one of his rowdy pub songs to liven the class up some."

"I thought it was rather refreshing," said Hermione.

"I thought it was rather dull," said Harry.

"You don't s'pose he'll be like this all year?" said Ron, worried.

After Hermione was bested in Potions by Malfoy, Ron proved best in Charms, and their Defense teacher proved to be entirely competent, the rest of their classes seemed rather dull. Ron was rather disappointed to learn that he couldn't perform any non-verbal spells after his spectacular first try.

He could often be seen with terse lips and a wand up his sleeve at their meals, concentrating on a stack of cinnamon rolls. However, the closest he came to succeeding resulted in an over enthusiastic jab and Dennis Creevey's face in his porridge bowl.

If Professor Jones' sixth-year class was looking forward to their next lesson, they were rather let down. When they went down to breakfast Thursday morning, they were told that their Double Defense Against the Dark Arts class that day would be canceled, as Moony and Professor Jones both had to leave unexpectedly.

"Snape looks rather sour, wouldn't you say?" said Ron.

"Isn't he always sour?" muttered Harry. He looked up at the two missing seats at the staff table and chewed his eggs thoughtfully. "What do you suppose happened? Something with the Order?"

"I don't know, but whatever it is can't be good. Look," said Hermione, smoothing down her copy of the _Daily Prophet _and reading aloud, "'According to several eye-witnesses, there was a break-in at 2:15 last night at the Hesperus Mansion in Glasgow, Scotland. The owner, a Mr. Havringsham Hesperus, was found in his library with his throat torn out and his wand broke in two. Investigators of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement suspect the work of renegade werewolves. Whether He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is involved remains unknown.'"

"His _throat_ torn out?" Ron shivered. "But what does that have to do with—"

"He was her great-uncle, apparently," said Hermione, scanning the rest of the article. "She's mentioned further on as his heir…I suppose she'll be taking this weekend off as well to attend the funeral…and as for why Moony went…"

"Right," said Ron, staring moodily at his breakfast. "Werewolves. Right up his alley."

The bell rang and they gathered up their stuff, heading back up to Gryffindor Tower to catch up on the pile of homework that had begun to stack up.

As it turned out, the new Dean of Hogwarts was not gone long. Saturday morning brought about the return of Remus Lupin to Hogwarts and Harry was quite determined to find out for himself what was going on—not simply with the professors' brief absence, but in regards to any news of the Order and Voldemort's plans.

After breakfast, Harry filed out into the entrance hall with the rest of the students, then stood back to wait for Moony to come out. Moony, however, was the one waiting for Harry.

"Good morning, Harry. Yes, I thought you'd be wanting a talk with me, and as it so happens, I have some news for you," said Moony.

He looked around at the students milling around the staircase, doors, and courtyard, then beckoned Harry towards the abandoned hallway that held the ground floor classrooms.

"Let's take a walk, shall we—ah, good morning, Ron, Hermione. Should have known you two wouldn't be far behind. Care to join us? Hermione, how've you been feeling? Well, I hope?"

Ron and Hermione extracted themselves from the crowd and followed Moony and Harry down the silent corridor.

"Why didn't you _tell _us you'd be coming back this year?" blurted Ron when they were out of hearing range from the rest of the school.

"Ron, he doesn't need to confide in us with every single thing," said Hermione.

"But what do you do? I mean, do you have your own office? Does Dumbledore just have you read stuff and sign things so he doesn't have to do it?" Ron was asking.

"Er, quite a bit, yes. It's really just drudgery work for now. But let's talk about something else," said Moony, dodging eye contact.

"Sir," Harry started, "I was wondering if you knew what Dumbledore meant when he said he'd be away a lot this year?"

"Ah, yes, I knew you'd want to know more. However, it is not my place to tell and as the headmaster wants to see you soon that gives you an ample opportunity to ask him," said Moony. "I've been working on setting things up in my new place and—"

"Are you living in Hogsmeade, then?" said Ron, hopefully.

"Yes. In the Shrieking Shack, incidentally."

"_The Shrieking Shack?" _Harry, Ron, and Hermione asked, astounded.

Moony chuckled.

"But how could you even _want _to go back—"

"Considering what happened there last—"

"And just think about everything you went through when you were in school—"

"I know, I know what you're thinking," said Moony. "And you're quite right. I should hate the place, all things considering. But then…all things considering…the Shack has always been a sort of den for me—nearly every memory I have there includes Padfoot and Prongs—"

Harry felt a fresh wave of sadness and guilt roll over him at the mention of his godfather. If it hadn't been for him, Moony would still have his best friend. If it hadn't been for him, Sirius would still be alive…

"—and it was the only place I could think about when Albus asked about moving to Hogsmeade," Moony continued. "Of course, it has the added bonus of having the strongest wards in it already for keeping a werewolf in…and Death Eaters out, now. As well as being one of Hogwarts' weak links as an entrance into the school, which means that I can safely guard it and thwart any of Voldemort's plans to get inside the Castle with it. Since he has Wormtail, it's definitely a possibility…"

"Then," said Harry, "that's definitely Voldemort's main goal? Conquering Hogwarts?"

"It is definitely _one _of his goals. But he has many things to focus his attention on, and many followers to help him with all of them. You've always known, of course, about Hogwarts, and his plan to take over the Ministry? I'm afraid there's not much the Order knows about the latter—your best source of information will be the _Daily Prophet_ this year. We have several members who are working undercover, of course. Your father is one of them, Ron, as well as Tonks and Kingsley. Hestia—Professor Jones, that is—used to be our lead in the entertainment department before Albus Dumbledore had her pulled out, and it's a good thing he did, too—"

"Why? Just so she could be a teacher?" asked Harry.

Moony looked around furtively, ensuring there were no eavesdroppers in their nook before continuing.

"No. Three weeks ago, a suspected Death Eater in that department had started stalking her, which prompted Professor Dumbledore to approach her to become the new Defense professor. We thought he pulled her out just in time. But then Wednesday we heard the Death Eaters had gotten to her family instead—"

"Her great-uncle in the newspaper?" said Hermione.

"Yes. Her parents were killed before she left for Hogwarts when she was a child—Death Eaters came to their house and tried to convert her parents to Voldemort's side—they were killed right in front of her. So she lived with her great-uncle till she was old enough to live on her own. It's Hestia the Death Eaters want. If they weren't sure she's part of the Order before, they're convinced now. Which is why she's living in the castle instead of Hogsmeade."

There was a silence after this.

_Who would have thought that the dark-haired woman who had laughed at Aunt Petunia's vegetable peeler last year could have come from so dark a past? _Harry thought. But it made sense…all the advice she gave to Harry before the start-of-term, the things she talked about in their Defense class…

_She's an orphan, like me._ _Only she was old enough to remember her parents, but young enough to have been there when they were killed instead of off at Hogwarts. And she definitely knew who was to blame, and positive that they could stop him._

_If only I could be so sure…_

Lost in thought, he was startled to find that Moony, Ron, and Hermione were all looking at him.

"Er…yeah?"

"Harry, Professor Dumbledore asked me to tell you that he wants to see you this evening. Seven o'clock sharp in his office. There are a few things he would like to discuss with you. Oh, and he said to tell you he's a fan of Ton-Tongue Toffees. Now, I'm afraid I must be off. I need to get this to Severus before he comes up for lunch. Have a good weekend!"

"Goodbye, Moony," they chorused.

"And please, call me Moony," he said as he walked away. "I'm not a professor anymore, remember?"

Harry watched him go, gnawing on his lip.

Ron glanced at him shrewdly. "You didn't do anything, did you? To make Dumbledore want to see you?"

"What?"

"Of course he didn't do anything, Ron! It's about lessons, obviously," said Hermione, perking up at this. "Professor Dumbledore said something about it to you over the summer, didn't he? I mean, with the war on Voldemort, there's bound to be things he'll want to teach you—like defending yourself, or maybe a Fidelius Charm so Voldemort can't get to you, or something—"

"Forget defense, I bet he'll start teaching you loads of cool hexes and curses, like ones the Death Eaters wouldn't know—" Ron broke in.

"There's something odd about it, though..." trailed Harry.

Ron snorted. "Yeah, I know. Ton-Tongue Toffees? Does he _like_ knowing the floor of the loo tastes like piss?"

"It's the password, Ron," said Hermione, exasperated. "What is it, Harry?"

"It's about Moony. Did you see the way he acted when you asked about what he does for Dumbledore?" said Harry. "He wouldn't even look you in the eye. Something's not right."

"Moony's always been a bad liar," Hermione said quietly. "Remember third year when he was keeping his 'furry little secret' from everyone? I asked him about where he went every month a few times just to see if he would confess, and he always looked like he did just now."

"You know," said Ron abruptly. "There's something I don't understand. If Dumbledore needs help at Hogwarts...then why does he need Moony? He's got McGonagall."

"Because it's a cover-up," said Harry in an undertone as a group of fourth-years passed them. "I've been thinking about it, and it all makes sense. It's not the school he needs help with. It's something else. Something he doesn't want anyone to know about. Not the students, not the other teachers, not the board of governors...and _definitely_ not the Ministry."

"Something that needs secrecy at all costs," Hermione agreed.

"Something that would blow up in their faces if anyone found out," Ron added.

"Something...that has to deal with Voldemort," Harry concluded.

They stopped in the hallway and looked at each other.

"So!" said Ron. A grin worthy of the Weasley twins crept onto his face. "What's the best way to find out what they're up to?"


	12. The Sorting Hat's Riddle

**THE SORTING HAT'S RIDDLE**

"You know...I think we should keep an eye on McGonagall," said Harry in an undertone as they walked into the Great Hall.

It was evening. They had been plotting about what Dumbledore and Moony could be up to all of Saturday and decided to take a break for dinner.

"I'll bet you anything that she's the one doing most of the work for the school while Moony and Dumbledore work on their little project."

He stopped abruptly. Ron collided into him. Malfoy, walking nearby, chuckled and said something about stupid oafs. Harry, however, wasn't listening. Not for the first time, he felt something jog his memory.

He hurriedly sat down at the Gryffindor table and pulled Ron and Hermione into the seats beside him. "I think I know what they might be working on! Listen, after the start-of-term feast I saw Moony and Hagrid talking to each other—they said something about a project that involves Grawp and a mountain cave and Charlie flying a woman up before Halloween! They're probably setting up new headquarters for the Order—remember Mr. Weasley said the place they're at now is just temporary and they've found somewhere better—much more protected—"

"Well...yes, but what does Grawp have to do with any of that?" said Hermione skeptically.

"Perhaps he _is _the protection," Ron joined in. "And you said Charlie was bringing a woman up? Did they actually say 'woman', then?"

"No…?"

Harry couldn't see where Ron was going with this, especially when Ron started laughing.

"They're not talking about a woman, Harry, they're talking about a dragon," said Ron smugly when he was done chuckling. "Norberta, to be exact."

"_Norberta?"_

"You mean that slimy little thing in first year was a _girl_?" said Harry.

"You mean that slimy little thing in first year is actually coming _here_?" said Hermione.

"That's what it sounds like. Charlie doesn't have any girlfriends—he's been stuck on training Norberta since she was a 'he'. Probably trying to potty-train her now, I reckon. What other 'her' would he be 'flying' up? Besides, it makes loads of sense. They need a remote place to gather for meetings and discuss battle tactics and whatnot—the mountain cave off the turnpike is perfect for that. They need a guard to protect it from Death Eaters while they're meeting, Grawp and Norberta are perfect for _that,"_ Ron stated.

"Well, I suppose, but..." Hermione was still skeptical.

"Look," said Ron in a low voice, "Whether I'm right or not, we can find out tonight anyway. Harry's going to see Dumbledore in an hour, right?"

"Fifteen minutes," said Harry, checking his watch.

"So you can go to Dumbledore and casually bring it up. Any mention of giants and dragons and secret meetings should bring Dumbledore to confession. After all, he tells you everything," said Ron, shoveling some mashed potatoes into his mouth. "_You'r_e Harry Potter."

It was with these last words that Harry gave the password to the gargoyle and ascended the golden staircase and reached his hand up to knock on Dumbledore's door at seven o'clock that evening.

" '_You're_ Harry Potter'..." he muttered to himself. "Right, like that solves everything...Dumbledore will spill the beans the moment I tell him what my name is..."

The idea was laughable. Both Ron and Hermione were counting on it, though, as Hermione had pulled Harry to the side before he headed up to his meeting and reminded him about her what Moony said about Dumbledore knowing what the riddle would mean about the Hogwarts Battle and the old man in the song and the four gifts he gave the Founders.

"Don't forget to ask Dumbledore!" she had whispered. "It's important, Harry, please don't forget!"

"Come in," said Dumbledore's serene voice on the other side of the door. Harry opened the door tentatively and stepped in.

"You...er...wanted to see me, sir?"

"Harry! Why don't you have a seat and we'll begin," said Dumbledore, going right into it.

Perplexed, Harry took his usual chair across from the headmaster.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "There are a few matters I would like to discuss with you, Harry. But first, Professor Moony has informed me that there are a few questions you might like to ask me. If you would like to do so now, I can promise to you that I will answer them each to the best of my knowledge and give you as much information as I am able to give."

The headmaster folded his hands atop his desk, raised his eyebrows, and looked at Harry expectantly. In the portrait behind Dumbledore, Dilys Derwent gave a little cough and hid a smile behind her hand.

_Huh, _Harry thought, bemused, _and I didn't even have to say my name._

"I would actually like to know...I, er..." he hesitated. "Well, I overheard Moony and Hagrid talking after the feast about Grawp and a mountain cave and Charlie bringing Norberta here—and, er, well, Ron thinks it's Norberta and Grawp guarding the cave for you to have your Order meetings as over the summer we, well, overheard Mr. Weasley talking about how where your meetings are at now aren't permanent and that you were looking for somewhere to have them, so...er..."

Harry trailed off, already knowing that he was missing something. Dumbledore was chuckling and suddenly Harry was very much aware of how little he knew.

"I am sorry, dear Harry, you must forgive me...I can see how eavesdropping might give you this impression...you actually do have it half-right. As he can no longer fit in the Forbidden Forest, we are giving Grawp a new home in the mountain cave beside Hogsmeade. Hagrid has been training him as I'm sure you well know so that he can be of use during the War. Norberta as well is being trained better than any other dragon has been trained. Charlie has been working wonders on her and as he is no longer needed in Romania, he's bringing her over here with him to hide in the mountains with Grawp.

"We are hoping, you see, that they can both be of use to us in guarding Hogwarts from the Death Eaters' attacks. Part of what makes the enchantments so strong is the magic from all the magical creatures who call this place home as well. Magical creatures naturally produce an enchantment around themselves and their nests to protect against predators. We have simply concentrated all of that magic into one spot around the castle and its grounds to include everyone else into their nest, so to speak," explained Dumbledore. "But as to whether the cave is going to be our next Order headquarters, I am afraid you three have drawn up the wrong conclusion. The castle of Hogwarts is to be our headquarters now, as it is here we are the strongest. Meetings will be taking place here, but as to which part of the castle and what time they will be held, I cannot divulge."

He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, his voice getting sterner. "You must not go _looking _for us when we meet, I warn you, or you will find much more than you bargained for. You must know, Harry, that Hogwarts is not a place for you and your friends to be wandering around at nights as you have done in the past. Any student or teacher out where he shouldn't be is a possible threat to Hogwarts and will no doubt be considered as such by the Aurors patrolling the grounds. Is this understood?"

Harry nodded, digesting this information. He had no time to feel resentment for being talked down to. He now had a dozen more questions he wanted to ask; but as they were all buzzing around his head, he couldn't think of just one.

And then one did come to mind, but it certainly wasn't what he was expecting.

"Erm...sir...I had another question..." He fidgeted with his robes, not wanting to meet Dumbledore's eyes. "I was wondering, actually, if the attack on the train on the way here... You didn't say anything at the start-of-term feast, but was it...well, was it because of me, sir? If I hadn't been on the train, they—"

"They would have targeted it anyway," said Dumbledore. "I don't think you understand, Harry, just how important it is to Voldemort to seize control of Hogwarts. Having you on that train was an asset, but nothing more. The outcome of this entire war could depend on whether he succeeds in getting past my numerous defenses and guards, you see."

"But...why is Hogwarts so important?" said Harry.

This news that Voldemort hadn't been after him was startling. If not Harry, then what exactly _did_ he want? Certainly he wasn't foolish enough to think that Dumbledore had been on the train? Was destroying the tracks a way to get into Hogwarts or did he simply want to create mayhem and panic for the start of the new year?

"Because Hogwarts...is the last stronghold," said Dumbledore heavily. "We already know of the network of spies he has planted inside the Ministry and Gringotts. If he were to seize control of them entirely, it would certainly be bad enough. But the magic of Hogwarts is far older and more powerful than either of them. If Voldemort were to find a way to tie Hogwarts' magic into himself, I'm afraid that would be the end of the wizarding world as we know it. He would be a force unstoppable and even I could not stand against him."

Professor Dumbledore sighed and adjusted his spectacles. "There are few who realize that the power behind my own magic is Hogwarts itself. I have lived here for nearly one hundred years. That is a rather long time to have one's magic tied within that of Hogwarts', which is bound to happen to anyone who knows and understands this castle as well as I do."

Harry sat back in his chair, astonished. He had never thought about Hogwarts in this regard before.

_But it makes sense...Hogwarts is over a thousand years old, and its been home to all of the greatest witches and wizards of our time, _he thought, remembering Professor Jones' lesson and the famous magical beings lodged in the cemetery. _All of that magic is bound to add up and collect. And Dumbledore is a tenth as old as the castle. It's possible he even has a tenth of the magic as well.._.

"So...that's why he attacked Hogwarts Express?" said Harry. "To find a way to get into the castle?"

"We do not know, Harry. We can only assume. And your assumption is as great as ours," said Dumbledore. He cleared his throat. "Have you...any more questions that you would like to ask, then?"

Harry thought about asking Dumbledore why he needed Moony to come to Hogwarts and what the two were working on...but in the midst of the headmaster answering his questions patiently, he decided against it. What they were doing was their business, and if Dumbledore thought it was important enough to tell him, he would.

"No sir," he said, "I can't think of anything else."

"All right. And now to the matter at hand. I'm afraid I must ask something of you. How far did you get with Professor Snape in regards to your Occlumency lessons last year?" said Professor Dumbledore.

Harry frowned, taken aback. "Er...well, I, er..."

"He informed me that you had accomplished nothing in the few months he was teaching you in Occlumency. Your Legilimency, however..."

"My..._what_?" said Harry.

"Severus has told me—rather sourly, I might add—that you accomplished Legilimency in your last session together. That is very interesting..." Dumbledore trailed off, looking at Harry hard.

"Most interesting," murmured one of the paintings.

"I would like you to start taking Legilimency classes, Harry—"

"_What?" _exploded Harry. "But I haven't even accomplished Occlumency! And Snape wouldn't let me back—"

"Professor Snape will not be teaching you," said Dumbledore, "I will."

Harry blinked. "Er...you will?"

"I would have taught you Occlumency last year, but as I told you then, I was afraid that would be a dangerous mistake if Voldemort used you to get to me. However, after the battle at the Department of Mysteries when you successfully threw Voldemort off, I realized how important it is that we use your link to him as a strong point and not a weak one. Of course we will need to start off with Occlumency at first, and if you succeed in throwing even me out of your head by Halloween, we can proceed to Legilimency. How do Saturdays work for you? After dinner?" Professor Dumbledore waved his wand and a calendar appeared mid-air.

"Er...yeah, I guess," said Harry, confused. Personal lessons on Occlumency and Legilimency with Professor Dumbledore? "But, sir, don't you have...er...other things that you need to do? I mean, I know you're busy...perhaps even Moony could—"

"You're implying that he actually is a Legilimens, Harry," intervened Dumbledore. "Everyone in the Order is an accomplished Occlumens, you see; but as for Legilimens, I'm afraid only myself and Professor Snape qualify. You will just have to make do."

Harry felt his face grow hot and he scuffed the carpet with his old shoes.

"It's just—you have more important things to do," Harry blurted out.

"No, Harry, instructing _you _is the most important thing I have to do. If you had known what Voldemort was planning last year...if you had known that the dreams you were having were not your own...if you had known that Voldemort was beginning to possess you even in the smallest of ways..." Professor Dumbledore sighed heavily and of a sudden he looked a lot older than Harry remembered. "It is my fault that you were kept in the dark, and I will not be making the same mistake twice."

Harry nodded, feeling ashamed. He remembered only too well the talk that had transpired between him and the professor the last time he was in this office.

On the one hand, he was ecstatic to be taking personal lessons with Dumbledore once a week—finally he'd be able to accomplish something that could help him against Voldemort. And it wouldn't just be defense, too. It would be _Legilimency_. Now more than ever it was important that Harry learned offensive tactics, not just the defensive ones—the Battle at the Department of Mysteries made him see that. He wanted to learn offensive spells, he needed to be able to stop his attackers in their tracks and not just run and hide...

_That seemed to be the only thing we were doing that night, _he remembered. _Running and hiding as they picked us off one by one..._

But on the other hand, he knew it was selfish of him to want so much of Dumbledore's time. Yes, instructing him was important as it would help in the future of the war...if Harry had to kill Voldemort in the end, he really needed all the help he could get. But there were too many things happening now. What with the attack on the Hogwarts Express, nobody knowing what or who Voldemort would be after next, and now the secret things Dumbledore was doing with Moony and this whole project with Grawp and Norberta to help strengthen the wards, not to mention all the other Order business that had to be taken care of daily...

Harry had no idea how Dumbledore did it all and still kept sane. He knew that if he had to take care of the day-to-day runnings of the school alone, nevermind trying to protect it and keep it from Voldemort, he would go crazy.

_But if I had kept up with my lessons with Snape, maybe he wouldn't have to do it. Sirius would be alive, I wouldn't have put my best friends through that, the wizarding world could be completely ignorant of Voldemort again, and I'd be an accomplished Occlumens too. We could have moved on to Legilimency by now, or on to the harder spells... If I hadn't been stupid and reckless and if Snape hadn't egged me on like that..._

_If only we had more _time.

"Time is of the essence, Harry," said Dumbledore, as if reading Harry's mind. "Not only for you and I, but for the whole school as well. If I had had my way, someone competent in the ways of Defense would have been made professor in place of the Ministry's choice last year. As it is, most of the students have never practiced defensive spells, let alone offensive ones. Now this year we are faced with teaching them not only the offense, but the defense as well. Now, now," he raised a hand to stop Harry from interrupting. "I must tell you when I first heard of what you were doing—my dear brother Aberforth is not quite so hard of hearing as you'd expect—in the face of all your obstacles...needless to say, I was very proud of you, Harry. I know that you had made the...Defense Association, was it called?...as a small group to help quite a few of the students learn their defensive spells. However, I fear that the need for an organization like this on a larger scale has become greater.

"Which is why," Dumbledore continued, pulling some papers out of his desk drawer, "I must ask you, as the official leader of this group, if you wouldn't mind expanding it so that it includes the entire school population."

Harry sat there, his mouth agape, not knowing whether he should be flattered, confused, or outraged.

"But—sir—I couldn't possibly—"

Dumbledore chuckled. "You wouldn't need to be the sole officiator of the entire school, Harry. I am quite actually thinking more along the lines of our former Professor Lockhart's idea to start up a Dueling Club four years ago. As you well know, there is no more reason to hide a defensive club, as the Ministry has recanted their fears of my coming up with an 'army' and turned them into hopes, as it may help us stop Voldemort. We would simply make the idea public of students signing up for the Defense Association—hold each meeting in the Great Hall, even, and each meeting would be yours to conduct. Of course, if you would like, we could make Remus Lupin a joint-officiator to help you out.

"Now your D.A., as you call them, know quite a bit more than the other students, especially the younger ones, so the first few meetings of this school year would be reviewing what you've learned in your past meetings. To make it go quicker, your D.A. could serve as helpers, showing the students how to perform certain spells and helping them to practice when they're not in class. I believe that the more students there are who know how to cast the Patronus Charm, there will be less family members that need to be put into St. Mungo's. It is, therefore, completely vital that these students are given this information. And of course, with you as their teacher they would certainly retain more than if we were to place it into a class-like setting."

"But...but what about Professor Jones? Isn't this something more up her alley? I know the sixth-years are mostly going to be going over Voldemort, but—"

"But there is too much to be done for us to use her classes alone, and what I have charged her with is far too important to be put aside in favor of her teaching each class solely defensive tactics. I understand your concern, Harry, and I agree. I do not want to place too much of a burden on you. If you would rather, we could make Remus be the _sole_ officiator of the meetings—"

"No," said Harry firmly. "I want to do it. I mean, I will. No offense, sir, but I've been with the D.A. since we first started and I know where they're at and what motivation they need to do their best. If we make the D.A. be a school-wide thing, I'll definitely need their help in teaching the others."

Dumbledore smiled. "Excellent! Now let us set up a schedule. I do not want to intrude on your Quidditch practices or homework hours. How often did you meet with the Defense Association last year?"

"We never had it at a specific time last year. I thought it would be less likely for us to get caught that way. Hermione did the Whatsit Charm on fake Galleons that showed the date and time when we came up with it. But it was about once a week, maybe every other week. And each meeting would go for several hours," said Harry.

"Once a week should do it," agreed Dumbledore as he scribbled away. "Let's say Sunday after breakfast. That would give you several hours until lunch. I will make an announcement first thing next week and put up bulletins for students to sign up—"

There was a haste knock and the door to Dumbledore's office suddenly opened. Remus Lupin strode into the room, looking rather disheveled. He gave Harry a nod but proceeded straight to Dumbledore.

"Sorry to intrude, Albus, but we have the information," Moony said. He noticed Harry listening in, and lowered his voice. Harry twiddled his thumbs and strained to hear. All he could make out, however, was "...Slughorn has agreed to...he'll give us the memory...on one condition...by midnight..."

Harry looked up as Dumbledore stood. "I believe that will be all, Harry. If you'll excuse me, I have an urgent matter to attend to. If you would like a lemon drop before you show yourself out, they're on my desk."

"Er—"

But Dumbledore was already reaching for his cloak hanging in mid-air and walking out the door, Moony right behind him. Harry watched as their robes billowed out behind them in the faint light before the door swung shut behind them.

"—all right," Harry finished lamely.

He stood up, alone in Dumbledore's office. He thought about everything Dumbledore had told him—for some reason, he couldn't get something out of his mind—and then he remembered.

"I forgot to ask him about the Sorting Hat's song," he realized, hitting his head with his hand. A couple of portraits tutted at him.

Hermione was going to kill him when she found out—but then again, if he was seeing Dumbledore next week, he might as well do it then.

Unanswered questions popped into his mind, and he realized that Hermione wasn't the only one beginning to obsess over it. Who _was_ the unnamed wizard in the Sorting Hat's new song? Why did it mention the Founders being married? Like Hermione said, they had to have known that, otherwise their second year would have been heir-less and serpent-free...

It was then that he saw it.

In the far corner of Dumbledore's office, perched on the very same ratted stool that McGonagall used to set it on.

It was the Sorting Hat.

Looking around him, feeling about as guilty as peeking inside presents before Christmas morning, Harry tossed his cloak onto his vacated chair and picked up the Hat.

"Why, hullo, old friend," he said to it.

He took a deep breath...and dropped it onto his head.

At first, Harry thought it was broken. For several moments, he didn't hear anything. Apparently, his head was getting bigger, as it did not drop over his eyes this time. And then—

"Ahhh...I remember you..." said the long-familiar voice in his head. "Yes...yes...quite unrecognizable from the last time we talked, eh? You've done some things, I see...some very great things...but some foolish ones as well. You would have done better in Slytherin, you know. You could have been great in Slytherin—"

"I don't care about being great!" Harry snapped. "I hate Slytherin, and that's the end of it."

"Why, so you do," said the Hat idly. "You will need to change that, you know, if you want to win. But then, I suppose ambition has always been Slytherin's thing, not Gryffindor's."

"What do you mean, if I want to win? What does that have anything to do with it?" said Harry.

"You mortals are indeed foolish," the Hat mused. "An old prejudice will go on for a hundred generations and eventually everyone will be killed off...simply because a McClivert tangled with a MacBoon. Try living for a thousand years, boy. It has everything to do with it."

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again.

"So, you want to know some answers then? Yes, I can see them all right here in your head. My annual song has struck a nerve with you—perhaps it was that last line what plucked it, eh? Very well, then, I will answer."

"Er...right. So...this old man, then. Was he important?" asked Harry.

"Important? Why, foolish boy, he was the most important wizard of all time! Even my previous owner—as great and generous a wizard as ever been, mark my words—wouldn't dare light a candle to _him. _I tell you who he is in my riddle, and I shan't repeat myself. If you use half these brains in here, you'll figure it out soon enough," said the Hat.

"But—"

"As for question number two, you'll find that I mentioned the Founders' spouses for a purpose. If you keep on the right track, you'll bump into it sooner or later."

"Wait, what do you mean 'bump into it'? What do you expect _me_ to do? I only wanted to know what you were talking about. Everyone was wondering—"

"Yes, but you were the only one to ask_,_ see? And don't question your worthiness to me, boy. I know who you are, make no mistake about that. I know what your forefathers have done, and—"

"Forefathers? You mean my parents—?"

"Did I say your parents, fool?" the Hat snapped, taking Harry by surprise. "If I said your forefathers, it is of your forefathers I meant! I know who they are and what they have done, and you have quite a lot to measure up to! Now I suggest you start on it, you've wasted enough time with your dilly-dallying and your supposed 'fate'_."_

"My supposed _what_?" Harry stood up. "There's nothing 'supposed' about it—a bloody prophecy was made!"

"And look where it led this Voldemort—straight to you! Fat load of good this prophecy's done you. And the way you keep on, it will lead _you _straight to the grave. You and your other friends you prize so highly—don't be surprised, I can see that too. They are very important, you know. In ways you will never understand. Your mind is like a map—you've started at one place and the way you're headed, you'll end up off this cliff very soon indeed. I can't predict the future, mind, but I'm sure as all Merlin not blind either. Now do you want to get off this path?"

"Well, yes, but I don't see what it has to do with anything. I only wanted to ask—" started Harry.

"And I answered your questions, didn't I?"

"No! You wouldn't tell me who the warlock mage is, and you said I'd just bump into your reason for mentioning the Founders' spouses 'sooner or later'. If you could just give me some more clues, or...or a hint, or something—"

"Very well then. I'll give you some clues to get you started," said the Hat, then started grumbling, "Though I shouldn't, really, I've given you enough as it is...they'll be right sore with me when they find out I've given you more—"

"Wait, who's 'they'—?"

"Shut up, boy, and pay attention."

The Hat grumbled some more, then opened its brim and began to sing—

"_I've said my story, oped the book,_

_Unlocked the answering door._

_But I've not told of all I know—_

_A fourth there is, and more."_

"Hang on! I don't have a—"

The Hat ignored him and continued on.

"_You've heard about the legend_

_Of the serpent's heir and beast,_

_And still you have not questioned_

_If the other lines had ceased._

_But I speak now of these others,_

_Whose lines continue must,_

_As they pass down through the ages_

_To the just and the unjust._

_And the gifts that they were given_

_Must be handed down the line_

_To the honorary heirs until_

_They've come to thee and thine._

_The first gift found must stolen be,_

_The second shall inherit,_

_With borrowed hand the third is claimed,_

_The last—with given merit._

_So you face now a dilemma—_

_You must find before it's through_

_The four heirs and their four gifts_

_Before the battle's brought to you!"_

There was a silence as the Hat closed its brim once again.

Harry shook his head several times to sort it all out. "Wait, so you mean that there's a...that there's _more_? I thought Slytherin's heir was the last of them?"

"We've already established that your cognitive function is somewhat warped," said the Hat dryly. "Where did you get this information, that Slytherin was the only Founder with a living heir?"

Harry silently fumed. The Hat was really starting to annoy him, and he wondered why he seemed to like it so much before. "I didn't _get _any information, I just assumed—"

"Well, you know the saying. 'When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me'," the Hat interrupted.

This did not help matters any.

"All right, fine, so the other Founders have heirs. And these gifts apparently were given to the Founders by the old man...they're...what did you say? A sword, a cup, a...a...crown, and a necklace, right?" said Harry.

"In such illiterate terms, yes."

The Hat repeated the middle verse for him, and Harry stood up, walking around.

"Right, so the gifts are with the heirs and they need to be found so...so...so what?" said Harry, stumped. "So Voldemort stops killing people and decides to live in a cottage with daffodils? Somehow I doubt that."

"Were you not listening?" the Hat snapped.

"Apparently not. Could you just sing it again for me and...well, I don't suppose I could have a...a quill and some parchment—"

"What do I look like, a writing desk?" the Hat grumbled, but nevertheless, Harry felt something sharp poke his head, and a quill and leaf of parchment tumbled out of the Hat and onto the floor.

"Er, thanks," said Harry, rubbing his head and setting the parchment on the stool so he could hunch over it again and write. "Now, could you repeat that again for me..."

It took fifteen minutes and another leaf of parchment, but Harry was finally able to get it written down.

"I suppose you'll be wanting an early rendition of next year's song as well?" the Hat commented rather sarcastically. "It comes complete with a dance sequence performed by tap-dancing rats."

"No thanks," said Harry, stuffing the Sorting Hat's riddle into his pocket. "I imagine they're diseased enough, having to live inside of you."

The Hat was chuckling as Harry took it off his head and set it back on the stool in the corner.

"Thanks for the help, old boy," he muttered before swinging his cloak back on and striding out the door.


	13. Summon the Queen

**Author's Note: I don't say much, but I did want to say thanks so much for the reviews so far! I know Harry Potter fanfiction is dying, but I just had to get this last story in. Please remember to drop a quick review! For those of you who aren't writers, you have no idea how invaluable the different kinds of feedback are! Both the positive and the negative. For those of you are ARE writers (you know who you are), shame on you if you don't review. You know better. ;-) I do hope my writing is to your liking. **

* * *

**SUMMON THE QUEEN**

As they didn't have any classes on Sunday, it gave Harry, Ron, and Hermione the entire day to discuss everything Harry had learned the previous night. As soon as they had breakfast, they hurried over to an empty classroom as it would give them the most privacy.

Harry had got as far as what Dumbledore said about Grawp and Norberta when Hermione clucked.

"Well, of course! It makes so much more sense now," she said. "Most of what makes magical creatures 'magical' is their protective wards against predators—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Ron glumly. "I was so sure I was right."

Harry waved that aside. "But that's not all he said. Voldemort wants Hogwarts and that's what the attack on the train was about. Maybe he's trying to get into Hogwarts to use the magic, or maybe he's trying to destroy it, nobody knows. Anyway, Hogwarts is headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix now, but he wouldn't tell me when or where they're meeting, only that we shouldn't go looking for them."

"Ha!" Ron crowed. "I knew it had to be somewhere near Hogwarts. It's the safest place to have any sort of Anti-You-Know-Whatsit meeting."

Hermione, however, had concentrated on something else. "If Voldemort were to take control of Hogwarts," she said, "he would be almost as powerful as Dumbledore…and that's saying something. It's really no wonder we have all this protection and guards wandering about to make sure nothing suspicious goes on. What else did Dumbledore say?"

Harry told them about the Occlumency and Legilimency lessons he'd be receiving and the school-wide D.A. classes he'd be teaching. Ron and Hermione were both excited at this.

"Hey, if you know Legilimency, you could start teaching me and Hermione Occlumency too—!"

"And Moony will be helping with the classes? Just think, Harry, you'll be able to get so much done, and all the students will be able to do so much more—"

"—and then we'd be able to learn Legilimency! _Dad_ doesn't even know how to do that!"

Harry grinned at his friends' enthusiasm. "That's not even the best part. I remembered what you wanted me to ask, Hermione, only Moony needed Dumbledore for something and I forgot. Then I saw the Sorting Hat in the corner and I put it on…"

He repeated everything he could remember the Hat telling him while Ron, who wasn't as interested, looked longingly out the window.

"Wait," Hermione interrupted. "You mean it said that it told us who the wizard was in the start-of-term song?"

"Yeah. But I can't even remember now what the song said. Just that—"

"You don't have to remember. I have it here," said Hermione, rummaging through her bag before she found a scroll, rolled it out, and showed it to Harry and Ron.

"Wait, is this—" said Harry.

"Blimey! When did you write this?" asked Ron.

"Last Sunday, before bed. After we heard the song, I just repeated it again in my head to commit it to memory and—" Hermione was saying.

"Wait, you did this from _memory_—?"

"Of course, Ron," she said rather irritably. "I have an eidetic memory, didn't you know? It means I can see things or hear things and remember them perfectly later on. It's why everyone says I sound like a textbook when I repeat information."

"Wicked! So all you had to do was hear the song and then—" he snapped his fingers "—like that, you just knew it?"

"Not necessarily. I had to repeat the entire thing to myself, but since it's in rhyme and meter and I just heard it, it was rather easy. Haven't you noticed how people can remember poems and songs much better than speeches or essays?" she said.

"Well, that's because essays are boring—"

"I don't understand, it isn't here," Harry broke in. He hadn't been following the conversation at all, he was instead reading the Sorting Hat's song, scouring through it to find mention of the old wizard's name. "All it says is he was strange and runic—whatever that means—"

"It means he wrote in runes that are still preserved today—" Hermione explained.

"—and that he lived at Hogwarts first and was the greatest wizard ever lived, but really old because he used to serve 'our first-loved king' and how he was dying or something…" Harry trailed off and looked up at them. "Does this sound familiar to either of you?"

"No," said Ron bluntly.

"I don't think—_oh!" _Hermione breathed, her eyes suddenly round. "I think I know now! It's—oh! Why didn't I think of it before? It's so _obvious!"_

"It is?" Harry and Ron both said, mystified.

"It is—of course it is! Both of you know it, I know you do! Just think!"

The two boys looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, come on!" said Hermione, exasperated. "Think! How many great wizards do we know?—I mean, not personally, but heard about?"

"Er…a lot?" asked Ron.

"No, no, think of your Chocolate Frog cards, Ron. Which ones do you have?"

"Dumbledore, Nicholas Flamel, Hengist of Woodcroft, Herpo the Foul, Andros the Invisible, Bertie Bott, Newt Scamander, Devlin Whitehorn, all the members of the Weird Sisters, Gwenog Jones—"

"Er…I think that's a girl," said Harry.

"Oh, you're right—"

"Ron!" Hermione complained.

"What?"

She sighed and turned to Harry. "You should know this, Harry! He's not just a wizard only our world knows about. Even Muggles know this one! All of England knows it—it only has to do with our 'first-loved king', after all—"

"Wait, you mean King Arthur and—oohhhh!" said Harry, slapping his forehead.

"Bloody Merlin, who are you two talking about?" snapped Ron.

To his frustration, the other two burst out laughing. It wasn't until they were able to stop when they explained to him that he'd said the answer already.

"This makes so much sense," said Hermione. "Of course it's Merlin, it all fits. I just had no idea that he lived in this castle before the Founders—that he was the one who had the idea to train witches and wizards at all. I thought he just advocated for wizards and Muggles working together—"

"And the Sorting Hat even told me that it's previous owner—Gryffindor, of course—wouldn't even dare light a candle to him. Of course Gryffindor wouldn't—Merlin was his teacher! The Founders were great, but Merlin was on another scale entirely—" said Harry.

"All right, so the weird wizard was Merlin. Big deal. What else did the Hat say?" said Ron grumpily.

Harry decided to skip the mention of his forefathers and what the Hat said about the Prophecy, and plunged right into the second riddle that the Hat gave them.

"Wow," said Hermione, reading over the copy Harry made. "So the other heirs _are_ living to this day! I thought about it, but I was sure it wasn't possible…I mean, not that there are still some now, but that we'd be able to _find _them. It would take years and years of research into every single child born into each line. Do you know how many people that is? Hundreds, at least…"

"'_And the gifts that they were given must be handed down the line,'" _Ron read. "I suppose that means the heirs must have it now. Hang on! You were wrong, Hermione!"

Hermione blinked. Harry's eyebrows shot up.

Ron stood up and walked around their table, thinking. "Well, remember? You said that to your knowledge the Founders' gifts weren't around today, but you _do_ know of one of them. In fact, you see it nearly every year! In Dumbledore's office!"

"Not the Hat, Ron—"

"No, I mean—"

"The sword!" Harry said aloud, nearly hitting himself again for being so stupid. Hadn't he held the sword in his hand in his second year? The name itself was marked on the very blade. "It's _Gryffindor's _sword!"

"Yeah. So does that mean—wait—" Ron stopped and looked at them. "_Dumbledore _is the Heir of Gryffindor?"

There was a silence at these words as they all digested them.

"He couldn't be…" said Harry.

"It's possible…" said Ron.

"Rather poetic justice, don't you think?" said Hermione. "The Heir of Slytherin and the Heir of Gryffindor…two of the greatest wizards of our time, and both mortal enemies…and the only ones who can defeat each other…"

Harry turned away at this. _That's not true, _he thought. _Not anymore._

But he didn't say it aloud. The prophecy flitted across his mind yet again, and it struck him that now would be the perfect time to tell them.

They still didn't know about the prophecy.

He looked at them both, and he suddenly realized how old they seemed.

In many ways, Ron was the same boy he had met on the train. With his ginger hair down to his ears, his long nose, his sometimes clueless expression…but he was very different now as well. His feet used to be large for his frame, but now the rest of him had nicely caught up. He stood at just over six feet, his freckles were still there, but now almost invisible against the tan he'd gotten over the previous summers. And whereas before he had been rather lanky, over a year of rigorous Keeping and Defense training had buffed him up considerably. In short, Ron looked really rather fit.

And Hermione…well, she was…well, _Hermione_. Harry noticed, almost for the first time, just how much she had changed over the years as well. Her hair used to be curly to a fault, but now it had become much more manageable and she appeared to be trying different things with it—today she had drawn it away from her face into a loose plait, and it looked rather nice. Harry didn't even know when her figure started changing, it seemed so gradual, but now it was clear that she was no longer a little girl. Her skin had tanned over the years spent with the Weasleys and at Hogwarts, reading in the stands while the boys practiced Quidditch. She wasn't noticeably stunning, like Cho Chang—her beauty was much more quiet and it seemed rather to sneak up on people when they were least expecting it.

And all of this only told of how they had both grown physically, Harry noted. All three of them had changed a lot since their first year, intellectually, emotionally, mentally…even socially, Harry thought, remembering how bossy and unlikable Hermione used to be and how insecure and jealous Ron would always get.

_They deserve it. Their friendship deserves to be told the truth about the future. About why they risked their lives in the Department of Mysteries...about why death and danger seem to follow me wherever I go...about what will happen if they still choose to be with me...especially why everything I do, everything I _am_, is going to be the death of them..._

Memories flashed in his mind.

Hermione, lying on the floor, unconscious...panic and fear completely overflowing and spilling out of him at the thought that she was dead...Neville reaching over to see if she even had a pulse...

Then Ron, foolishly laughing at the brains in the tank...Harry could only watch in horror as they flew towards his best friend, attacking him, choking him, killing him...

And all summer long, Harry could hear Ron crying out at night. Even the potions Ron had been given to heal his arms didn't stop his nightmares. Harry tried to ask him several times about what he'd been dreaming about, but Ron just clammed up and changed the subject. Harry wasn't used to this...he was used to the roles being reversed...he wasn't used to Ron drawing away from others and acting like Harry'd had all those years previous.

But things with Hermione hadn't been much better. Harry couldn't forget the image of her lying in the hospital wing, looking pale and fragile. Madam Pomfrey had given her numerous bottles of things to take for whatever curse Dolohov had thrown at her, but even now she still didn't look as strong and healthy as her old self. Harry didn't think anyone else had even noticed, as good as she was at hiding things from him especially. He often saw her rubbing her chest when she thought nobody was looking...he knew that what had happened that night had scarred her...both physically and emotionally.

_And it was all my fault. It all happened because of me. Hermione knew Voldemort had planted that vision in my mind...Hermione knew Sirius wasn't really there, that it was a trap...and still she came with me and risked her life. They both did. With everything we've been through...they trusted me enough to risk their lives for me... _

_I don't want to tell them about the prophecy. I don't want to add to all the pain I've caused them. But they deserve to hear it from me, rather than someone else. I don't want them to know, but they _need _to. _

_I need to tell them._

He stood up straighter and cleared his throat. His heart was racing, he was sure he had gotten paler—surely they would notice. He thought about how to tell them, what should be the first words out of his mouth—

"Well," said Ron, standing up. "As fun as this was, my stomach is killing me. What do you think they'll serve us for lunch?"

Hermione stood up as well and started walking. "Honestly, Ron, do you ever stop thinking about food?"

"No. Not really."

Harry sighed. For a moment he thought about calling out to them, and blurting it out before they left. But then he changed his mind, got up, and followed them out of the library.

_I'll tell them later. Sometime this month when we all have a break._

* * *

But he never did have a later. For the rest of that week, they were so incredibly busy with the piling homework and schoolwork that they thought of little else. And when they did have cause to think of little else, it was always unpleasant—

"I can't believe it!" said Hermione one day at breakfast.

She spread the _Daily Prophet _out on the table and showed them. The headline blared:

**THE SEARCH FOR DIGGLE CONTINUES **

Harry and Ron leaned in and read the article. It was all about the disappearance of Dedalus Diggle since June and the Ministry's search to find him.

"Hey, I've heard something about that," said Neville, peering at it. "Who's Diggle anyway? And why's he on the news all the time?"

"Dedalus Diggle is—or was—a member of the Order," said Hermione.

"Bet it's 'was'," muttered Ron sullenly. "Bet you anything the Death Eaters captured him and killed him. Shame, too. I rather liked him."

"So did I," said Harry glumly. "He came up to me several times the first time I went to the Leaky Cauldron and shook my hand. He rather liked me. And when the Order came to pick me up last year, he was there. I remember once when I was seven, he came up to me in the middle of the street and shook my hand. Frightened me a bit…"

"Diggle…doesn't he have an odd hat? Rather short, always beaming, talks rather fast? Middle-aged bloke?" said Neville, scratching his head.

"He can't be more than forty," Hermione corrected. "I heard Professor Lupin talking about him. He was still in school when they were in their seventh year. He said Diggle had taken to following the Marauders around everywhere, and they used to make him fetch things and stand guard during their pranks and whatnot."

Ron cast a furtive look at Harry that had nothing to do with Diggle and everything to do with Hermione's mention of the Marauders.

"Er—anyway—see, what happened is, he went missing in June. The Order sent him off on a mission—I don't know what it was, no one's said—and he hasn't been seen since then. We all think the Death Eaters caught him, but the few that we've captured all say that _they're_ trying to find him. Not that they're likely to be trusted," said Ron savagely.

"The Ministry's been using this new method to tell if someone's lying, Ron," said Hermione. "I don't know what it is, but it was Dumbledore's idea. I truly believe that neither Voldemort nor the Death Eaters have him. Besides, they've been looking for him too. Which means they _can't _know where he is. Which leaves, of course, everyone wondering what in heaven's name happened to him."

"But haven't there been other disappearances? Why's he so special?" said Neville.

Hermione shrugged. "Apart from nobody knowing what happened to him? I expect the Ministry's trying to keep the public happy knowing they're looking so hard for him, because that means they're looking just as hard for everyone else who's mysteriously gone missing. He's like their poster boy for missing persons."

"I still think Vol…You-Know-Him did it," said Ron, stubborn.

"And I still think there's a fishy reason as to why Voldemort wants him," said Harry.

"Voldewho?" said Seamus from behind him, feigning confusion.

They snorted.

"No, no, Seamus, you're quite mistaken," said Dean as he plopped down beside them. "I do believe they're talking about the one ugly bloke...Whodemort."

They laughed.

Livening up a bit, Harry finished his juice and said, "You know, if he had a twin, what that name would be, right? You-Know-Two."

"Oh, that's horrible, Harry. How about this. What's it called when he's on time to a meeting?" said Ron. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Late."

Sniggering, they all left for their next class.

* * *

Their next Defense Against the Dark Arts classes proved to be almost as good as the first, Harry found out. On Mondays during their two hours of class, they were beginning to learn more about Voldemort. Quite a bit of it Harry already knew, but there was still some that surprised him.

"That was really interesting," Hermione remarked as they were headed down for dinner. "Especially that bit about how his mother brewed that love potion to get the elder Tom Riddle to fall in love with her. It must have been horrible when he left her…"

"Fancy his family being so screwed up," said Ron.

Harry snorted. "Like mine," he said, thinking of the Dursleys.

"And that orphanage…I wonder what he did to that poor girl and boy…" Hermione said.

"I don't think you want to know," Ron stated in an undertone, just as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle rudely pushed their way past them.

Harry saw Malfoy's face as he passed, and was stunned by the unmasked fury.

"Wonder what's with him," he said quietly.

"It must be hard," Hermione mused, "finding out the hero you worship isn't all he's said he was. I don't think Malfoy knew that Voldemort's a half-blood. I don't think any of the Slytherins knew. It actually reminds me of Hitler."

Ron said, "You mean that one Muggle bloke that started that war? I remember my grandfather talking about it."

"Wait, where's the connection?" Harry asked.

"Well…they both have this long-standing vendetta against a certain type of people—Jews, Muggle-borns—but the thing that they're hiding from and don't want any of their followers to know is that they're hunting the very people they themselves are descended from. It's just…sad," she said.

"You may think it's sad," said Ron darkly. "I think it's just sick."

When they descended the marble staircase into the entrance hall, they saw a crowd of people beside a table near the doors.

"What's going—" started Hermione.

"Oy!" shouted Ron above the din. "Move over! Prefects coming through!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What? Percy did this all the time. It's rather fun," said Ron with a smile as the crowd parted for them.

"Huh," said Harry as they got to the table. There was a very long sign-up parchment that lined along it, underneath a sign that said DEFENSE ASSOCIATION in large letters.

"'…in the Great Hall every Sunday morning at nine o'clock by the founder, Harry Potter, and the joint-officiator, Remus Lupin,'" read Ron aloud. "Bloody hell, Harry! There's about five hundred signatures on here already!"

"It looks like everyone from the D.A. last year's signed up," Hermione beamed, reading through them. "Well, except for the ones that left last year…hmm…glad to see Marietta Edgecombe isn't on the list…"

Ron snorted. "Got enough sense, that one. She knows bloody well to stay well away from you, Hermione."

Harry wasn't listening—he couldn't believe his eyes. He grabbed the list from Hermione. It was so long that the end fell to the floor and rolled under the table.

_Five hundred people…I have to teach five hundred people…_he thought dazedly. All of a sudden, he felt everyone's eyes on him, and as he looked around the entrance hall, some people started to clap. It started with the old DA members from last year until all the students were clapping and cheering.

Harry got so red he was sure he'd melt right into the floor.

"Well!" said Ron, grinning. "Now that I know it's a success, could I have that back, Harry? I don't suppose you'll be needing to add your own name to it…if you really have to teach yourself, we'll be better off with Umbridge."

The hall erupted in snickers.

* * *

The sixth-years quickly found out why the N.E.W.T.s were so hard. They didn't have much of a break at all for the entire week. Schoolwork was beginning to catch up with them and any free breaks they might have had before turned into study breaks.

"I'll never get the hang of this," Ron moaned one evening as he threw his wand down on the Gryffindor common room table and leaned back in his chair.

"But you've done it before," said Harry, looking at him.

"That was different. I was really hungry then. I just can't remember what I was thinking when I said the spell to myself and it actually came."

Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy homework.

"Perhaps that's the problem," she said. "When you do verbal spells, it's all about concentrating and saying the right words and doing the right movements. But non-verbal spells are different. Getting the right words and movements is habitual by then. So really, when you think about it, getting it perfected a second time has more to do with your emotions and desires than your head. Perhaps you're thinking about it too much. At the risk of sounding like a Muggle therapist—what were you _feeling_ at the time, Ron?"

"That I was hungry. I know that my mouth was watering when I Summoned it," he remembered. "And what's a there-a-piss?"

"So it was your hunger that drove your desire!" said Hermione. "Not your thoughts, but your feelings. Have you been trying to focus on your feelings when Summoning something lately?"

"Er…no…" Ron said, feeling stupid.

"All right then, try this," Hermione said, standing up and putting one of Ron's chess pieces on her palm. "You love chess, so focus on that love and Summon this queen to you."

"Just like that?" he asked.

"Yeah, Ron, that's simple enough. Need me to Silence you?" said Harry, getting into it.

"No, thanks," said Ron acerbically. He sighed and concentrated on the white queen in Hermione's hand.

_I can do this, _he thought. _I love chess. I love to play with the queen. Well, actually, not really. She just seems to cheat, she's too powerful. She goes in and takes what she wants, no matter who's in her way. I much prefer the knight, really._

"Come on, Ron, you're not concentrating hard enough," said Hermione. "I can't stand here forever."

Ron furrowed his brows. _Concentrate…I can concentrate…_

_Think about how bossy that piece is. She knows what she wants and she takes it. She commands all the other pieces, she always has…and she always seems to know everything…no wonder they call her the know-it-all of the class…_

"Do you want her or don't you?" asked Harry.

_Of course I want her! I know she's a pain, but she's still my friend, and we've known each other for six years now…_

Something wasn't quite right, but Ron was too busy focusing on Hermione and the little white thing in her hand to pay attention.

"She's waiting, Ron," said Harry.

_I know I can't have her, but it doesn't matter. I just…I _want _her, is all…_

"She's starting to put it down—"

_And it just doesn't really matter that I can't have her, because lately I've been feeling that all I want to do—_

"—You're running out of time, you know—"

—_is say "To hell with it all!" and—_

"—Ron—"

_ACCIO!_

It happened in an instant.

Ron was pointing his wand straight at Hermione, when the next thing he knew, she was flying through the air, straight towards him.

Hermione gave a shriek. Ron had barely enough time to throw up his arms and catch her before they were both thrown against the armchair. With both of their weights combined, the armchair fell back onto the floor, Hermione on top of Ron, and Ron on top of the forgotten chess piece.

"Ohhh, Ron…" Hermione moaned as she struggled to get up. "You really need to work on your aim."

By the time she had clambered off, Ron noticed that the entire Common Room was laughing at them.

"Perhaps his aim isn't the problem," sniggered Seamus.

Harry, still chuckling, offered Ron a hand up.

"Thanks, mate," said Ron, flushing.

"Perhaps one of these days you'll actually Summon what you're _supposed_ to be Summoning. Just do me a favor, will you?" said Harry. "Next time you decide to try something like that, tell me first and I'll make sure Mr. Granger stays well away so he doesn't beat you to a bloody pulp."

That set off a new wave of laughter amongst the older students. Ron noticed Hermione had turned rather pink and was burying her face in a textbook in the corner.

He made his way over to her. "Look, Hermione, I really am sorry…"

"No, it's okay," she said from behind her book, her voice a bit higher than normal. "You didn't mean to."

_Yeah, but that's the thing…_ Ron thought with a furrowed brow as he made his way up to the boy's dorm. _I think I did…_

But whether he meant it or not, Ron noticed that for the next few days Hermione rather avoided him.

When he voiced his concern to Harry during their next Potions class, however, Harry only chuckled. "I'd be avoiding you too if you made me fly across the room."

Ron made a rude hand gesture.


	14. The Risks of Being Ron

**THE RISKS OF BEING RON**

For the sixth-years, they found that there was a reason their coursework was getting heavier. And why they needed study periods to begin with.

On one particular fall day, they could be found in the corridor, trudging with their arms laden with books. Hermione suggested they actually use their study period for studying. Without even knowing what they were agreeing to, Harry and Ron both said yes. They followed Hermione as she led them down the corridor to the N.E.W.T. study hall on the ground floor.

"Study hall, huh? You know…we've never been here before…" stated Ron.

"We've never had coursework as hard as the N.E.W.T.s," said Hermione. "The O.W.L.s were nothing compared to these—_Grammarye_—"

The knob-less door with elaborate carvings on the wooden panels opened as she said the password, and the three walked in. It was a long rectangular room, rather like the staff room that Harry had been in once or twice. There were two long tables and a lot of straight-backed chairs, and over two dozen sixth- and seventh-years were already hard at work.

"Well, this'll be fun," said Ron sarcastically.

"Sshh," said Hermione, and led the way to the end of a table.

Harry found his thoughts drifting off more than once as he worked on his Care of Magical Creatures homework. _I think this is the first time I've ever worked on my homework less than an hour after it's been assigned_, he thought idly.

The long windows covering the length of one wall showed a perfectly blue sky that looked all too inviting—the storm of the past few days had finally moved off into the North Sea. Azkaban was probably getting the brunt of it now, he guessed—although, Azkaban was always in the middle of a storm. Perhaps it had something to do with the enchantments surrounding the wizarding prison…or maybe the hundreds of dementors guarding it made the permanently bad weather, since just a couple bring about fog…

In no time at all, the bell rung for lunch, and Harry found that he had written a total of three paragraphs.

"Merlin, my back aches," Ron groaned as they walked into the Great Hall.

"Didn't you use a cushioning charm on your chair?" said Hermione in surprise.

"Er…we're allowed to?"

"Of course! The only reason they have those chairs in there is because the students that are more serious about their grades want the buckling-down the chairs give. I knew they'd be hard on you, but I thought you'd at least try a charm—"

"Well, that's useful to know," Ron grumbled as he sat down. The words had just left him when he immediately stuffed a roll into his mouth, groaning in satisfaction.

Hermione watched him, disgusted. "That looks revolting."

"Then don't look," he said.

"You know…I would think that riding on a broomstick every week, you'd be more used to uncomfortable sitting positions," said Hermione, spooning some lambchop stew into her bowl.

"Not really—all broomsticks have a cushioning charm on them," said Harry. "Of course, the Firebolt is the most comfortable—I don't even get a wedgie sitting on there—"

Ginny snorted behind him.

Harry swiveled around. "Er—sorry—didn't know you were there—"

"Do they always talk about this stuff in front of you?" she asked Hermione as she slid into a seat.

"Every once in a while," said Hermione.

Harry and Ron reddened.

Ginny smirked. "You should hear about what they _really_ do when they're on their brooms."

Ron choked on his dinner roll.

* * *

Because it was a free period, Harry and Ron could choose between finishing their Potions essay or going down to the kitchens to grab a bite.

Needless to say, they chose the kitchens.

When they got there, the numerous house-elves were quite pleased to give them some food, and bombarded them with trays of pumpkin pasties, tansy cakes, honeyed biscuits, and éclairs.

"I love it here," said Ron fervently, and took it all.

As they sat down near the roaring fireplace, Harry looked around. But although he couldn't find Dobby, there was one elf tending to the baking bread that looked oddly familiar—

"Winky?"

She turned and Harry and Ron saw that it was her, although very changed. The last they had seen her, she had a matching skirt, blouse, and hat all very unkempt and covered with stains and burns. Now, however, there wasn't a spot on her new clothes and she was draped in white cloth that had the Hogwarts crest stamped on the left chest. Her hair had recently been trimmed, her eyes were no longer red and puffy, and she seemed like she no longer drank butterbeer as heavily as she used to.

"Harry Potter, sir!" she gasped. "I-I is not seeing you since—since—since old Master—"

She broke off, sniffling.

"Yes, well, never mind that," Harry said hastily, not wanting the waterworks that had come from her so frequently back in fourth year. "Er, how've you been?"

"Winky is a house-elf of Hogwarts, sir."

"Er…right…"

"You're not still drinking butterbeer, are you?" said Ron sternly.

"Winky is being banned from drinking," she said miserably. "Dobby is banning me from all things that is making me be sad."

"Well, that's good!" said Ron.

"Winky is not liking Dobby for it," she said, sticking her bulbous nose in the air.

"That's not fair, Winky," Harry stated, coming to Dobby's rescue. "He's only trying to help you be happy."

"Winky is not caring for happy. I's a good house-elf and does what M-Master tells us to! Dobby should minds his own business."

"Winky," Harry warned. "Dobby just wants to be your friend. Don't you like him at all?"

The nose came down a fraction of an inch. "Well…D-Dobby is making Winky laugh."

"That's good. Right?" said Ron.

"And…well, Dobby is helping Winky with chores. I is needing help sometimes. But I's still a good house-elf!" she added hastily.

"Of course you are!" Ron agreed.

"Good. Just be a good _friend _now too, all right? You know what it means to be a friend, don't you?" said Harry.

"Winky is knowing how," she said, head hanging. "Winky's just being mean to Dobby."

"Well—now you can be good to him," said Harry.

"Funny things, house-elves," Ron commented after she left. "Although…you know, Winky reminds me a bit of Hermione."

"Hermione?"

"Well…yeah…they both have trouble admitting when they're wrong, you know? And…well, they are a bit hard on their friends, aren't they," said Ron ruefully.

"Well, you know what we should do when Hermione starts getting on to us about homework, don't you?" said Harry.

"What?"

Harry smirked. "Steer her towards the butterbeer."

They were so busy scarfing down sweets that they almost missed Dobby, which was rather hard to do—five of Hermione's hats bobbed on his head and although his clothes were different than last they saw, they were still as colorful and mismatched as could be.

"Dobby has been missing the great Harry Potter, sir," said the house-elf earnestly. "Dobby would like to help in any way he can, sir, 'cause Dobby knows you will be very, very busy with finding!"

"Er...thanks, Dobby, but I don't think I'll be needing—"

"Oh, no, sir! Dobby knows all about your task, sir, for Dobby is having lots of friends in the Very-Grand-and-Noble-Room and is overhearing Harry Potter talking to the magic hat!" said Dobby, beaming.

Harry opened his mouth in realization—he had totally forgot about the 'task' the Sorting Hat had given him—finding the heirs and the gifts in that poem.

"Your task?" Ron asked Harry.

"The Very-Grand-and-Noble-Room?" Harry asked Dobby.

"Oh yes, sir! It is very grand and noble, which is why the house-elves is calling it grand and noble, sir!"

"Yes, I understand that," said Harry impatiently, "but how _come_?"

"Harry, what—?" said Ron again.

"Because it is belonging to the Master Headmaster, Harry Potter! It is having lots of special things in it—things that the Master Headmaster isn't wanting to be cleaned too often, sir, because they is being too breakable and unknowable. But the house-elves isn't liking the magic hat being there, sir. The magic hat is too grumpy and scowly to the house-elves. But Dobby doesn't mind him, sir! Dobby is the one to take the magic hat upstairs, which is why Dobby is overhearing it telling Harry Potter about his findings of old witches and wizards," Dobby said rather proudly.

"Er...great," said Harry, feeling less enthused. Dobby was making it sound as if Harry had set himself up for a sort of quest, which was the last thing Harry wanted to do. If he was really supposed to find the 'findings' as Dobby called them, couldn't he just do it in a week and have done with it?

"Wait—is he talking about the Sorting Hat?" said Ron, realization dawning on his face.

"Er—listen, Dob," said Harry, leaning towards him. "Where's the magic hat now?"

"Why it's in the Very-Grand-and-Noble-Room, sir, where it's supposed to be!"

"All right. Could you do me a favor and go tell the Hat that I...er...that I changed my mind? I'm not exactly up to finding...whatever it was it wanted me to find. Tell it to find someone else to do it if it has to be done. Can you do that?"

"Oh yes, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby would be delighted, but the magic hat...it won't like this as much as Dobby. The hat is being very mean to Dobby, sir, but Dobby isn't minding."

"Very obedient, aren't they?" said Ron when he and Harry left twenty minutes later. "Dobby seemed right happy when you told him to tell the grumpy hat 'no'."

Harry thought back to his first meeting with the house-elf, who kept trying to save Harry's life by stopping him from going back to Hogwarts.

"That's because Dobby doesn't know the meaning of the word," Harry said ruefully.

* * *

It was during Double Transfiguration two weeks into September that Harry finally achieved his first non-verbal spell. By this time, Ron and Hermione both were getting better at it, moving up to transfiguring their mice into top hats without a word. Things were indeed moving right along and Harry found himself settling into life at Hogwarts almost as easily as all the years previous.

He could be found one night trudging to Gryffindor Tower, eyes weary with sleep. The Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore lasted for quite a while—they were making headway. The first lesson he had with Dumbledore proved this last to be quite true. Dumbledore was rather impressed with Harry when he told him that ever since the Department of Mysteries—when Voldemort entered his mind at the end of Dumbledore's and Voldemort's duel—he'd been practicing the mind-emptying exercises each night before bed.

"I guess…maybe it was because I had to learn the hard way why it was so important," Harry had said. "I wasn't going to let what happened with Sirius happen again with anyone else."

"I do believe, Harry," Dumbledore stated, "that the reason you had a difficult time learning Occlumency last year was because a part of you did not want to learn anything."

Harry started. "Er…sorry?"

"Please excuse an old man. I am not pointing fingers, so much as pointing suggestions on how you can better yourself," said Dumbledore. He continued, "Last Christmas, you realized that if you had not been connected with Voldemort's mind you would not have seen that he had placed Arthur Weasley in such grave danger until it was too late. It was because you were in his mind that Arthur was saved so soon after the attack. I do believe you thought that if this connection were to continue, you would be able to save others in time, and this is why you were compelled to such action when you saw Sirius was in danger. If you had been practicing to clear your mind every night, you wouldn't be able to see Voldemort attacking others, thus saving them in time. It is the hero in you, you see, placing your own self in danger to Voldemort in order to save others from a different fate."

_He was right, _Harry thought now. He simply hadn't wanted to learn Occlumency last year. He hadn't wanted the dreams to stop. And when he had that vision of Sirius, a part of him was glad that he'd had it, so he could save Sirius in time.

When he asked Dumbledore if they should up the lessons to three times a week instead of one, so he could fend Voldemort off if he were to try sooner, the elder wizard shook his head.

"He will not be trying to get inside your mind like last year, Harry. His _modus operandi_ will be different, especially from your performance when he was in your head last. Now that the wizarding world knows he is alive, he will not be building up a defense anymore. Like in Muggle American football, this war will be run entirely on his offense. And as one of his targets, this means that you must make your own defense much stronger. It only takes your will. If you truly want it to stop, then your body will do anything to make it stop."

With this Occlumency lesson, it was no different. For the first time, Harry had been able to repel the headmaster from his mind; something of which he was rather proud of. It was a powerful feeling, expelling someone from your mind, Harry found out. Like when he did the same to Snape last year during their lessons, or as he did to Voldemort at the end of his and Dumbledore's duel in June.

"I do believe you will become an accomplished Occlumens soon enough, Harry. Remember to practice not only at night, but while you are in the corridors, while you are playing Quidditch, while you are eating supper, while you are at your most unawares," said Dumbledore, as Harry left. "This is vital if you are to succeed."

Dumbledore then told him something that made his heart chill—

"If you do not succeed, Harry, Voldemort will go after someone you love just to get to you. He has proved this at the Chamber of Secrets and again at the Department of Mysteries. But this time, it might be someone far closer to your heart...like your best friend, Mr. Weasley...or even Miss Granger. Are you willing to risk that?"

_I can't expect Dumbledore or anyone else to save me if something happens, or even to build up my defense for me. I can't rely on luck anymore—whether it's 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' or isn't. For Dumbledore's and Ron's and Hermione's sakes I must. For Ginny and Neville and the Weasleys and Luna and everyone else out there. For Sirius' death and for the possibility of everyone else's deaths, I must._

_Merlin abroad, if that just didn't sound so cheesy…_

* * *

Life was finally going great for Ron. He was among the best in his classes, thanks to having a leg up on the non-verbal casting. He hadn't had a nightmare about the Department of Mysteries (or the attack on the train) in ages. He was practicing Quidditch every day in anticipation for the tryouts. He was fairly certain he had the position of Keeper in the bag. And he was on very good terms with Hermione.

Life was going...really great.

Which is why, on a weekday afternoon after dinner in the Great Hall, he decided to go on his own to the boathouse.

The boathouse wasn't often a place visited amongst the students of Hogwarts, on account of there being...well...not much of anything to do. The boats were all moored and tied up, so one couldn't use them. The creatures of the Black Lake were another turn-off...nobody in their right minds fancied having a tryst with the Giant Squid. So no...nothing to do.

Other than it being a nice, out-of-the-way place to take a girl to snog.

Perhaps the awkwardness of finding a couple snogging there was just too great for most people who were searching for a bit of quietude. Ron had heard of the possibilities of the boathouse over the summer from Fred and George, of course. He had a mind to suss it out. See if maybe he should take his own girl there.

You know...when he had a girl.

And so it was the prospect of having his own place to take a girl there that he walked the long trek down the stairs. It was also the prospect of a toe-dip into the Black Lake. As it was the prospect of going wandering on his own. Harry and Hermione were both acting rather chummy as he followed them while they were discussing the Sorting Hat's Riddle. Ears closed as to whether that had anything to do with his decision, Ron veered to the right of the cliffside and took the unused stairs that led all the way down to the boathouse from the entrance hall.

It isn't often that I'm alone, he realized as he walked. Harry's and Hermione's voices grew farther away, not noticing he wasn't right behind them anymore. Hogwarts is a lot like home, really. Too many people everywhere, never a moment to myself. And it's not like I ever get to have my own room. I'm either bunking with Harry or the family ghoul or a million other boys. Merlin, I can't wait till I can just get my own place and—

But thoughts of what he would do upon graduation flew out of his mind as he descended the last stair and walked into the boathouse. It was a large expanse of a building, far bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. The walkway extended along both long walls away from the opening. Each wall was lined with windows that crisscrossed, leaving the light of the dying sun broken as it traveled inside. But taking up the bulk of the room was the water, with a dozen boats moored nicely alongside each other beside the stairs going down.

Ron crossed the walkway, passing the dozens of oars hanging on the walls, the stacks of rowboats in the corners of the boathouse, waiting their turns to be used next. The red and white life preservers were hung between the windows he walked by, making him feel safe even if he fell in.

He walked down the little set of stairs going in to the water, sitting on one of the lower ones as he dipped his feet in. Setting his shoes and socks above his head on the wooden planks, Ron leaned back against the stairs and heaved a sigh.

The water lapped around him, filling the silence. Gazing up at the steeple-like ceiling high above him, Ron wondered why he didn't do this more often.

Not enough free time, maybe? Or it could be because there are too many bloody teenagers in this place looking for private places to be alone.

No snoggers tonight, however. Just him, the water, and the—

Slytherins.

Ron was Petrified before he had even a chance to blink. It was Nott, of course. Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle. And behind them...Cyril Urquhart. They looked rather smug with themselves as they strolled over to him, kicking his shoes and wand away. They clattered against the wall and landed under a bench.

"What do you think, Weasel, want another go with us?" said Urquhart. "Said we'd quill you in to our schedules, didn't we…"

Fear surmounted. Ron was alone, without a wand, and off the beaten path. He hadn't told anyone where he was going. And on the train, one of them said something along the lines of… "If we're lucky, the Death Eaters will finish him off. That's what they want anyway."

"I told you we're not finished with you," sneered Nott into his ear. "We've come to give you a little...payback...for escaping the Death Eaters."

Then arms hoisted him around his shoulders, but they didn't take him up the stairs—

The Slytherins took him farther down them, where the water lapped the bottom of the steps, covering the murkiest depths that traveled ten, twenty, thirty feet into the darkness below them.

Where the creatures of the Black Lake dwelled.

A voice whispered the countercurse to the Petrificus. At once, Ron started struggling, but the damnable gits were too strong and already had him right where they wanted him.

"Get OFF me! Leave me alone, you damn—"

And then they pushed him under.

His feet—his legs—his stomach—his chest—too fast for him to even—

Then his head.

Water filled his senses—he'd hardly realized what they were doing before he could chance a breath. He kicked, he punched, he tried to pry their meaty hands off his shoulders where they were holding him down, but he couldn't—couldn't—

They pulled him up. Gasping for breath, Ron was hardly aware of anything else. Air, blessed air, he gulped it down, he filled his lungs—

"You know, they want you dead," hissed Nott, his ugly face far too close to Ron's. But water was streaming into his eyes, which blessedly hindered his ability to see much. "We might as well just finish the job for them. We're only too happy to help, aren't we, boys?"

Urquhart chuckled. "That's why they tried to do you and Granger in during the train attack. But you just won't bloody die, will you?"

"Fancy another drink?" Nott asked.

Ron was shoved under the water again without warning. Thrashing around, his hands immediately went up to Goyle's and Crabbe's fingers clutching him. He tried to pull them off—tried to scratch, gouge, maim—anything to get away from them—

His lungs were on fire—bubbles streamed from his nose—

—and then his face was out of the water again, and—air—he could breathe—

They were talking to him. He couldn't hear them at first, water was rushing so loudly—he blinked black spots out of his vision. For the first time, he was grateful they were holding his shoulders because he definitely wouldn't have been able to hold up his own weight without them.

"—and we wouldn't want that, now would we?" Urquhart was saying over Ron's spluttering.

Want what? Ron thought desperately, straining to hear over his waterlogged ears. If they wanted him to do something, he'd honestly do anything at this point to be kept above water and for them to leave him alone.

"What—what do you want—" he gasped.

"We want you dead," hissed Nott. "That's what the Dark Lord ordered. You dead and Mudblood Granger brought to him alive. So we're going to be taking care of you first...then when your body's found floating in the Black Lake, we'll be going after her."

"No!" Ron shouted, struggling harder. "Don't—"

Underwater again.

Completely fed up with what they were doing to him, Ron struggled against their grasp, water surrounding him, his hair floating around, only the sounds of his own thrashing reaching his flooded ears. The seconds ticked by—a full minute—still they weren't letting him go—

Until they did.

They hauled him out of the water and up the steps, dropping him roughly against the cold stone. He breathed deeply in and out, grateful that he wasn't underwater—but getting far too weak to fight against them, even if he did have an opening.

Hands seized his sopping wet shirt, bringing his face closer to his.

Urquhart growled into his face, "Consider this a warning, weasel. Next time we aren't going to be as kind. And if you tell anyone about this—anyone at all, you hear me—you won't be so lucky. Because then, it'll be Granger we take. And we'll make you listen to her screams as we—"

Ron's fist landed square in Urquhart's smug greasy nose.

Urquhart swore, his hands flying up to his nose as Ron rolled over, reaching over to snatch his wand from under the bench where it had rolled—

A boot kicked it out of his reach.

"You fucking prick! Put him under again!" Nott barked at Crabbe and Goyle. "Obviously he hasn't learned his lesson. Maybe we should finish him off today after all—!"

Furiously, he kicked and shoved, flailing in their grasps—desperate to get away from them before they—before they—

But Crabbe and Goyle dragged him over to the water's edge and shoved him unceremoniously in.

Ron fell several feet until he was submerged beneath the Black Lake again. He kicked back up to the surface but the moment his face broke through the water, hands grabbed his hair this time and shoved him under again, making him breathe in lake water.

Gasping, choking, Ron couldn't breathe. The undying need to breathe—something he'd always taken advantage of before, apparently—was bursting within him, but it had no way out—he had no way out—

Ron struggled to be freed from his captors—but their hands were unyielding—forcing him to stay under the waves. Furious, he tried to wrench them off him. To claw his way up the sides of the barnacle-covered stone wall. To kick against anything he could touch in some vain hope that it would propel him to the water's surface.

To pray for their mercy.

But no mercy was coming. They weren't lifting him out of the water again. Ron was growing weaker. Am I dying? Is this…

He was starting to black out.

Dying…?

Harry and Hermione's faces flashed through his mind. He'd never see them again. He'd never be able to help Harry win the war. He'd never get to know what it was like to hold Hermione's hand. To lean in closer to her face and—

But the face leaning in closer to his wasn't Hermione's.

It was huge and pinkish white and the eyes were the size of quaffles. Its head was so long and elongated that it completely covered the water in front of him. And below him—a massive writhing tangle of tentacles, swirling around in the water like sea snakes—

Tentacles that reached up, entwining around him, and Ron hardly had the sense to be afraid or to scream before the tentacle shoved him upwards, out of the water—high into the air—

Screaming erupted around him.

Nott, Urquhart, Crabbe, and Goyle stared in horror at the monster surfacing out of the water with Ron in its clutches. Then they turned and bolted. But they were too slow. One tentacle shot out and grabbed Goyle around his midsection, carrying him screaming up and over the resting rowboats. Another tentacle almost lightning-fast seized Urquhart, who was farthest away, dragging him into the water by his ankle before letting go. Nott was taken high into the air as well, and Crabbe was dropped into the water, his shouts silenced as soon as he submerged. A crash amongst the boats was heard as the tentacle dropped Goyle at long last. But the tentacle lifting Ron up was far nicer to him as it set him on the floorboards where he lay, sopping wet and gasping, amidst his own puddle of lake water.

Its work done, the Giant Squid dropped back into the water, scaring Urquhart as he splashed to the stairs, whimpering. Then the tentacles retreated and the monstrous beast backed out and through the grand opening to the Black Lake once more.

Spluttering gasps sounded around Ron as the Slytherins stumbled to their feet.

"You bloody bastard!" Nott said, turning on Ron once more. "Siccing the Giant Squid on us?"

"Let's get out of here before it comes back—" said Goyle, and took off out of the boathouse. Crabbe wasn't too far behind him.

Urquhart stumbled up the stairs and out of the water, but he wasn't interested at all in escaping. His expression was murderous as he turned on Ron and stalked towards him, his clothes soaking and leaving squelching noises as he and Nott both came closer—

"Bombarda!" Ron gasped, his wand in his clutches once more, and the Slytherins were both blasted several feet from him. It probably would have been more than mere feet if Ron wasn't as weak, or if his voice wasn't as raspy.

"That all you got, you weak little git?" Urquhart wheezed, picking himself off the floor and coming forward again.

Raising his wand once more, Ron's voice stronger this time, he said, "Confun—"

But Nott hadn't been one step away from drowning like Ron had, and his spell to silence Ron was faster.

"Now…" said Urquhart, stepping on Ron's wandarm, making Ron drop his wand to the floor. He and Nott both towered over the Gryffindor as he lay where the Giant Squid dropped him. He was white-faced on the floor of the boathouse, just feet away from the water's murky edge.

They loomed over him. "We'll get you back for this," Urquhart hissed. "You won't know when and you won't know how, but mark my words, Weasley…soon you'll be dead, and your little Mudblood better watch her back. We'll be coming at her from behind."

Urquhart's face leaned closer and Ron glared at him, seething. "Care to do the honors, Theodore? We need to cover our tracks. Make sure he doesn't go blabbing. You know what Antonin always says. When in doubt…" said Urquhart, stepping back.

Nott raised his wand, smirking. "...Obliviate!"

And Ron suddenly forgot everything.

* * *

Hermione was beginning to get worried. She and Harry thought Ron had been behind them as they came out of the entrance hall, but they were so wrapped up in their discussion that it hadn't been till they were through the portrait hole they realized Ron wasn't there.

They waited for him as they did their homework, thinking he'd just got caught up playing with Seamus and Dean. Or maybe went to the Quidditch pitch to practice without Harry.

"How could he practice without me, Hermione?" Harry'd said. "He Keeps. How'd you think he'd manage that? Throw the balls at himself?"

But Hermione insisted, and Harry went upstairs to grab the Marauder's Map.

"Well, where is he?" Hermione demanded as Harry came back down the stairs, staring puzzled at the Map.

"He's right—"

The portrait hole opened, and a soaking wet Ron came through.

"Ron!" Hermione ran forward, enveloping him in a hug. "What in the world—"

"What happened?" said Harry, instantly worried. "You fall into the lake?"

Hermione gasped.

"I...don't know," said Ron, his voice raspy. "I mean, maybe? I don't remember."

Hermione grabbed his head, searching his wet hair for signs of bleeding—perhaps a brain injury—

"You don't remember?" Harry said, concerned.

"I woke up in the...the...boathouse," said Ron, perturbed by Hermione's inspection. But she didn't see any bleeding, and as her eyes fell on his own, she was suddenly aware of how close his face was to hers. The face she was still holding…

Blushing, she let go and backed away.

"Was there anyone else in there?" she asked.

"No. I thought I heard footsteps, but...by the time I wasn't feeling dizzy or weak and started walking up those stairs there wasn't anyone there," he responded, sitting down heavily in an armchair by the fire.

"Well, why were you in the boathouse?"

"I...don't know. I've always wanted to go there though."

"Why? What's in the boathouse?" Harry asked, sitting beside him.

"Er…" Ron shrugged. "Boats…"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you want to go up and get changed then?"

"No, I'm...I'm good. Wouldn't mind a cuppa though."

Ron stared into the fire, his face dark, and Hermione sat next to him, worried. Was he trying to remember what happened?"

"Ron," she whispered as Harry summoned Dobby and asked him to bring Ron a cup of tea. "Can't you remember anything? Even the slightest thing might help us know what happened to you."

Without reverting his gaze, Ron began to talk. "I remember...walking down to the boathouse. I was fancying some...alone time. You know. And I took off my socks and shoes and put them beside my wand and just...relaxed. And then nothing. When I woke up, I was wet, not in the position I fell asleep in, all wet, and hurting something awful. My arms and legs and throat...Merlin, it was torture coming up all those stairs, I'll tell you. Took me long enough, too."

"So," Harry surmised, trying not to laugh. "What you're saying is...you fell asleep in the boathouse, and most likely a ghost or Peeves or someone came along, doused you with water probably just so you'd wake up, and you...then woke up?"

"Oh, shut it, Harry…" Ron grumbled.

Hermione didn't want to make light of the situation. But when Dobby came and brought cups for the three of them, Harry tried to relieve the tension and make fun. She didn't want to be a stickler, so kept her mouth shut.

But she watched Ron closely after that.

Over the next day, he was more withdrawn, conserved, disinterested. He didn't talk at breakfast, though Hermione saw quite a few glares in their direction coming from the Slytherin table. At first she thought nothing of it—what else is new, after all—but then the sneers in the hallway alluding to something neither of them knew about started coming.

"Careful, Weasley, don't drown in it," hissed Crabbe during Potions as Ron peered into his cauldron.

Then, during lunch while Ron was eating pasta—

"Rather like kissing the Giant Squid, isn't it?" Nott whispered as he walked past. "You would know all about that…"

And when they were walking to their next Transfiguration class, Urquhart shot a leglocker curse at Ron. The Slytherins all sniggered as he fell, and when Hermione performed the counter, Urquhart leered at her. "Too bad you weren't there to save him earlier, Granger. You might have been able to wash some of the mud out of your blood."

Holding Ron back, Hermione couldn't help but wonder—

_What the hell happened to Ron in that boathouse?_


	15. Of Witches and Broomsticks

**OF WITCHES AND BROOMSTICKS**

When Hermione shared her concerns about Ron to Harry the next day, he tried to brush it off.

"Ron isn't disturbed from falling asleep in the boathouse, Hermione…" he said. "He's simply concerned because the Quidditch tryouts are tomorrow."

They both knew how nervous Ron could get about Quidditch. But Harry had to admit, Ron certainly looked rather white after that night.

_It's just the try-outs. Quidditch can do that to people. That's all it is._

Harry found that being Quidditch Captain not only had its perks, but it had nulled Ron and Hermione's renewed prefect statuses quite a bit in his mind, and he had felt better for it.

While they would be patrolling the corridors, he would be training new recruits for his team and holding try-outs for everyone. He knew it was going to be hard, especially since they were losing Fred, George, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson this year, but he couldn't help but devise game plans in his head and figure out new maneuvers they could practice.

Over their third week into September, he kept finding himself looking at his fellow Gryffindors as they passed him in the corridors, and sizing them up for a certain position. He would need two Beaters to replace Fred and George since Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper had proved to be horrible, as well as two new Chasers to fly alongside Katie Bell. Harry had hopes that he'd be able to get Ginny Weasley back on the team—she had replaced him as Seeker last year after he was banned, but when he was playing with her over the summer, he saw just how good a Chaser she might make as well.

_There is no way I could possibly get any new team to be half as good as we were when Oliver Wood was Captain, but…I'm sure as hell going to try._

_All in all,_ Harry thought, _maybe being Quidditch Captain will be better than I thought it would be._

Ron was in such a state of nervousness that he insisted practicing for two hours every day. Harry thought this a bit much, seeing as how good Ron had gotten even the past few months, but kept it to himself. It sure beat having Ron automatically think that Harry would choose him just because they were best mates, in any case. Besides...it was nice pretending to be Chaser for once. Harry thought he could actually get used to it, if he did lose the Seeker spot this year. His dad was one, after all, and when Harry flew around with the Quaffle tucked under his arm, he imagined he was his dad. Sirius, of course, would be somewhere protecting him from Bludgers, with Moony in the stands cheering them on. And then he'd pass the Quaffle to Hestia Jones, who'd—

"OY!" Ron roared at him. "Watch it, won't you?"

Harry realized he had just chucked the ball straight at Ron's head.

"You need to be prepared, don't you?" Harry said. "It's what the Slytherins would do..."

"If I wanted to practice with one, I'd have asked them, not you," Ron grumbled in reply. "Chuck me one again. On target, this time..."

It was the night before the Quidditch try-outs and with Ron's furious practicing, they didn't realize until it had gotten dark that it was after curfew.

They had just entered the entrance hall when Harry heard someone call his name.

Dread hit them both as they realized they got caught, and they both spun round to find Hestia Jones striding up to them.

After reluctantly scheduling detention for Sunday for their out of bed infraction, she excused Ron, saying that she really only wanted to speak to Harry. Ron looked at Harry questioningly before leaving, and Harry turned to her, confused.

"I wanted to give you this," she said, handing him a book. The cover was blank.

"What—"

"It's a two-way diary. They've been selling them for years now and—"

"Yeah, I know," said Harry, fingering it. "It's one of those special ones, where it comes with a pair and everything you write in this book appears in the other one, isn't it? That way, you don't have to owl each other, but you can write letters to each other and it appears in the other's diary...but then...why would you..."

He trailed off, frowning at her.

The thought that Jones had just given him a Dark object flitted across his mind. His second year...the conversation he had with Tom Riddle in his diary...only, Riddle was able to actually put himself inside the pages—he hadn't needed another copy of the diary to talk with Harry...or Ginny...

"Oh, you misunderstand me, Harry," said Jones, her eyes twinkling. "I have no intentions on sharing a diary with you. I see you enough in class as it is; and now in detention as well. No, this diary used to be mine after I graduated from Hogwarts. Your mother and I..."

Harry opened the book to the front page. Scrawled in two separate handwritings were the words:

**You are holding in your hands the property of:**

_**Hestia Jones Hesperus**_

**and**

_**Lily Cecelia Evans**_

**P.S. Read, and you'll be cursed to within an inch of your life. Just a warning.**

"—we got them soon after they were married. We wanted to still keep in close contact with each other—she was marrying your father and moving to Godric's Hollow, and I was in the middle of my Auror training. I don't know what happened to her copy—I suppose it was destroyed, so I figured you had never had the chance to look at it. Now, I've already gone through and taken out anything I wouldn't want you to read—we were two young witches after all—but I thought it would be worth it for you to learn some more about your parents. You see..." she said, then paused. "These are the letters she wrote when she was pregnant with you."

Harry fingered the dark green cover, a longing filled inside him.

_My mother...letters written by my mother...and she's pregnant with me..._

He couldn't seem to voice his thanks, but Professor Jones knew already.

"I thought you'd like it," she said quietly.

All the way up to Gryffindor tower, he clutched the book tightly in his hands, mind spinning. It was spinning so fast, in fact, that he collided straight into Snape.

"Well, well, Potter," he drawled. "Out for a little midnight stroll, are we? Thought you were above detention now that you've inherited your father's badge?"

"No," said Harry coolly. "Or I wouldn't have just _got_ detention."

"You might be advised to watch your tongue," Snape hissed. "Or you may well be scrubbing the dungeon floors tomorrow as well."

"You can't do that! Gryffindor try-outs is tomorrow—I'm captain—"

"Don't fool yourself into thinking I could care less about your day-to-day affairs. And what have we here? A stolen book, perhaps?" said Snape, snatching Professor Jones' book from Harry's hands.

"I didn't steal it," Harry said, seething. "Professor Jones gave it to me. She said I could read it—"

Snape opened it and scanned the first page. Perhaps it was the faint light from his wand, but Harry thought he looked rather surprised at the names.

"She did, did she?" said Snape coldly. "I hardly think that a teacher would let a mere...student...read her school-girl _diary_."

"But—"

"To bed, Potter. Before I give you detention for wandering the corridors. Wouldn't want any meandering Death Eaters to catch you, now would we," said Snape snidely, and he turned around and left, tucking the diary into his cloak pocket.

"Talking about yourself, are we?" muttered Harry, scowling. With a seething hiss, he marched the rest of the way to the Tower.

When he came to the portrait of the slumbering Fat Lady, he saw that lying at the foot of it was one of Ron's unmistakable orange Chudley Cannons socks. Wearily picking it up, he reached inside to find a slip of paper and Ron's unintelligible scrawl:

_Harry: Password's been changed. New one's 'Bally-hoo'._

Harry whispered the word aloud and the Fat Lady swung open as she slept.

* * *

Harry's bad mood stayed with him all night. He awoke the next morning to Ron's smelly socks, thinking about Snape, and his mother, and the Quidditch try-outs today, and feeling a huge knot in his stomach tighten.

Ron was sitting on his bed, unusually white, and trying to stuff his legs into his shirt sleeves. Seeing Harry awake, he gave up this new method of dressing and started making his bed—something Harry had never seen Ron do while at Hogwarts.

"When did you come back last night?" said Ron, voice high and his back to Harry. "I see you got the note I left you. Good idea to put it in my old socks, wasn't it?"

"Sure," muttered Harry, getting up. "Until someone else came along and was able to get inside the common room with your message and murder us all in our beds."

Ron stopped fumbling with his covers. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Yeah. I noticed."

Ron scowled.

With foul moods and nervous stomachs, they both left for breakfast.

If Harry had thought he was nervous before, it turned out to be nothing compared to what he was feeling at breakfast. Gryffindor Quidditch try-outs were to be held at ten o'clock, and all eyes were on him.

He, however, had eyes for someone else. Up at the staff table, he saw Snape and Jones talking.

_Bloody prat. Prolly tattling to her about that diary he stole from me,_ thought Harry, and it wasn't until Ron and Hermione looked at him that he realized he'd said this aloud.

"A _diary_?" Ron snorted. "I didn't know you kept a diary! Not very masculine, is it—"

"Is it possessed?" said Hermione sharply, glancing over to the next table where Ginny ate. Harry followed her gaze.

"No, no, it's not like that. And it's not even mine, Ron. Jones gave it to me last night..."

With a hushed voice, he told them what she had said.

"About your mother?" Hermione gasped when he finished. "But that's wonderful!"

"Not when Snape steals it so he can read it himself," Ron scowled. He called Snape a name that made Hermione kick him.

For the rest of the meal, Harry barely ate his cheese and ham, feeling like he always did just before a match. To his right, Ron was shredding his toasted bread into tiny pieces. Hermione reached across the table and gripped Ron's hands.

"You'll be _fine_," she promised him. "You're the best Keeper this school has."

A voice from behind interrupted them. "I, of course, would beg to differ. Wouldn't you, Fred?"

Another voice joined the first. "Right you are, George, right you are. I can't help but remember our senior year—"

"—back when we were diligently studying for our N.E.W.T.s—"

"—and thinking of a better time when school would be behind us, our future in the present—"

"—when our dear brother happened to be trying out for Keeper—"

"—spots to fill, you know—"

"—and successfully managed to stop a Bludger from entering his goal—"

"—not quite a Keeper's duty, to be sure—"

"—and lugged it straight at poor Fred, an innocent bystander—"

"—couldn't think straight for a month—"

"—tragic, it was—"

The tables around them were filled with laughter at the antics of Fred and George Weasley, Actors Extraordinaire.

"Oh, cut it out, you two," said Harry, though he was grinning. "What're you doing up at the castle, anyway?"

They sat down on either side of Harry and Ron, and filled their own plates to the brim with food.

"Try-outs," said Fred. "Wouldn't miss them for the world."

"Even if you're not supposed to be up here?" said Hermione.

"_Especially_ then," said George. "We have rather a few…investments, so to speak, and must protect them."

"Besides, no one would miss this. The entire school's talking about it," said Fred.

Harry's elbow landed in his ketchup. "_Why?"_

"Why do you think?" said Ginny, sitting down. "Hullo Fred, George. It's because it's you, Harry. Anything with you involved is likely to get exciting. You should be used to it by now."

"Pass your elbow, Harry," said Fred. "I'd like the ketchup, please."

Ron clunked his head in his arms, and moaned. "I'm doomed."

* * *

Harry's nerves were completely raw as they stepped onto the Quidditch Pitch twenty minutes later. He looked over at Ron and saw a queasy look on his face, like they were about to see the contents of his ham, cheese, zucchini, toast, and ketchup in reverse on the lawn.

"Hey, relax," Harry said, patting Ron on the back. "You've got it in the bag."

They rounded the stands and walked into the pitch. Ron turned white. "Wanna bet?"

It appeared as if the entire Gryffindor House was standing on the pitch, brooms in hand. And there weren't just Gryffindors in the stands watching them, too—dozens of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, even Slytherins had decided to attend.

"We warned you, Harry," said Fred, grinning widely.

George clapped him on the back. "You're famous!"

Harry groaned.

It took just under an hour for Harry to sort through the mess of applicants to the team, but sort through it, he did. The two hundred hopefuls were split into groups of ten and took turns flying around the pitch to show their speed. More than half of them were fairly decent, and Harry had no problem eliminating those that weren't. In a chorus of disappointment, muttered grumbling, and the few snickers, they trooped off the field.

He then sorted them according to the positions they were trying out for, finding to his annoyance that a group of giggling Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were among them. Fred and George found great amusement in this and proceeded to accuse every other applicant as being from the wrong House, from the wrong school, from the wrong country, and even out of the wizarding world entirely.

"Why do they find such pleasure in acting like idiots?" Harry said to Ginny as the twins tried to convince a first-year he was a Squib.

"Because they _are _idiots," Ginny replied with surety.

"Ah. That would do it," said Harry.

There were close to fifty Chaser hopefuls, most of whom did somewhat well. When it was Ginny's turn to try out, Harry kept getting distracted by the redhead who easily outstripped the others in speed, and knocked seventeen goals to boot. The only other ones who scored better were Katie Bell and another burly seventh-year girl.

"You there!" Harry called to the girl as she landed. "You were brilliant up there. What's your name?"

She was rather tall and muscular, built along the lines of Angelina Johnson. Her hair was pulled tightly back and hung down her spine in a long, black braid, and her eyes were dark and shrewd, reminding him very much of—

"McGonagall,"she said, sticking her hand out. "Maggie McGonagall."

Beside him, Ron choked.

"You mean you're—"

"McGonagall's niece, yeah, I know. I get it all the time," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"Do you get her love of Quidditch as well?" Harry asked, turning Captain.

She gave him a mean grin. "Born and bred!"

He shook her outstretched hand. "Welcome to the team!"

With Ginny Weasley, Katie Bell, and the new Maggie McGonagall as his Chasers, Harry felt his prospects at getting a good team this year begin to look up. Along with his strong, female lead of Chasers, Harry also decided to follow through on Fred and George's advice during lunch on getting reserves for every slot.

"After all, you never know when your Seeker's gonna land himself in the hospital wing just before the final match of the season," George had said.

"Or when your Seeker's gonna lose himself all the bones in his arms for his idiocy," Fred agreed.

"Or when your Seeker's gonna land himself in the mud from falling off his broom in the middle of the game."

"Or when your Seeker's gonna land himself with his fist in another player's face after we've already won—"

"_Or_ when your Seeker's gonna land his fist in one of _your _faces if you two don't knock it off!" Harry grumbled.

It was a harder decision, but he finally settled on a fifth-year named Demelza Robbins who had proved to be good at dodging Bludgers; a boy called Troy Porter who scored quite well; and surprisingly, Dean Thomas, who'd flown and scored almost as good as Ginny.

The Reserve Chasers now sorted out, Harry turned his attention onto Beaters. Luckily, there weren't nearly as many trying out for this slot. Before he could get them into the air, however, Fred and George insisted on sizing them all up.

"You call yourselves Beaters?" George barked, walking in front of them, hands behind his back.

"More like a bunch of hopefuls for the Weird Sisters, if you ask me," said Fred in disdain, walking around behind them.

Harry and Ron bit back snickers as several of them stood up straighter and stuck their noses higher in the air.

"You're far too skinny…"

"This one's no good, his arms are too long—"

"Tiny feet on this one—"

"—Too chubby. He'd never get off the ground—"

"This one needs a hair trim—do we _look_ like the Magical Menagerie to you?"

They came to a stop in front of the last two, a boy and a girl standing side by side.

"Twins," George grunted. "Much better."

Remembering something Professor Jones had said during their walk up from the train to Hogwarts, Harry looked closer at the last two and saw that they were right. Tobias and Alexandra Rosier both had long, dark, curly hair just like their aunt, and their faces sported matching impish looks.

"You!" Fred roared from behind the girl. "What's the best way to attack an opponent from below?"

"Keep a weather eye, use the blunt end to punt, and feet up for balance, _sir!"_ she shouted back.

George rubbed his chin. "Insightful…and I don't suppose you can tell me the results of last year's Wanderers and Arrows match, boy?"

"The Wanderers were leading four hundred fifty to the Arrows' own three hundred, when Arrows seeker Hutchinson stole the Snitch out from under their skirts and the match resulted in a tie, _sir!"_ said Tobias Rosier.

The other applicants were looking at both sets of twins, impressed, but Fred and George weren't done yet.

"The Caerphilly Caterpillars," said Fred quietly, scrutinizing both from in front. "In '91, they pranked their opponents' team so hard, it went down in _The Mischievous Matchmakers_ book as the dirtiest deed to date. _Name that prank!"_

Tobias and Alexandra exchanged whispers.

"The clock is ticking," said George.

"I've got it! The Caterpillars pranked the Harpies by slipping them Love Potion before the game!" said Tobias Rosier. "And during the play, the witches were tailing them and giving them points on purpose, in love with the lot of them—"

"—and nobody knew what had happened until the match ended and Gwenog Jones cried out to the entire stadium that Keeper Leonard Codsworth was the best shag she'd ever had—" Alexandra Rosier continued.

"—and then she mounted his broom and started snogging him right there!" Tobias crowed.

"_That is correct!"_ George shouted. "Everyone give a hand to our new successors!"

There was a confused smattering of applause as Fred closed his eyes, raised his hands, and gave a brief prayer of thanks to the Quidditch God.

Once the twins (and Harry, who had still made them fly and knock a few Bludgers about) were satisfied, Tobias and Alexandra Rosier became the new Gryffindor Beaters.

"Ah!" said Fred, collapsing in the chair beside Harry. "Knew they'd win!"

Harry furrowed his brow. "How'd you know that?"

"Because we taught them everything we know about the skillful art of Beating," said George conversationally. "They've been practicing with us since their first year. We rehearsed this scene just for you, did you know? The pause and the huddle at the end was just for special effects."

"Totally my idea," Fred whispered to Harry.

* * *

From her perch in one of the highest seats in the stands, closest to the Gryffindor goal posts where she could see Ron better, Hermione watched as the try-outs progressed. She knew it was bound to be long and boring, so she brought her Ancient Runes essay with her.

She looked up from her book to see Harry lining up a bunch of big, burly Gryffindors. Ron was among them, looking ashen-faced and gripping his broomstick tightly.

"Come on, Ron, you can do it," she muttered.

Beside him was a seventh-year Hermione knew to be Cormac McLaggen, the Head Boy. Her hand tightened around her wand as she remembered hearing him talk just before try-outs about Ron and Ginny. She had been walking just behind him onto the field and heard him boast about how he was going to kick Ron out of the position, he was so good.

_But he didn't stop there. He had to go around insulting Ron for the next twenty minutes. Heavens above, if he wasn't the Head Boy…if I weren't a prefect…_

_So what if you're a prefect? _said the voice in her head that sounded like Ron. _You can do it…no one has to know…and wouldn't it be fun getting back at him for saying those things about Ron? About Ginny? Do it for them. And if you do it right, it'll make sure he doesn't get the Keeper spot…_

But she couldn't do it, she was a prefect, he was a Head Boy, and it wouldn't be fair...

The Keeper applicants flew up into the air after Harry's whistle. Ron would be trying out first—it seemed Harry thought by doing him first there would be less time for Ron's nerves to settle after watching the rest perform—and flew straight to the goalposts. The three female Chasers threw ball after ball at him, and Hermione saw him save one after the other. At the far end of the pitch the reserve Chasers were trying out a large, heavyset girl for Keeper.

Cormac McLaggen, meanwhile, was flying around the pitch with one of his mates, working out before it was his turn. As they came circling around Hermione's corner of the field, she heard him talking.

"—believe you me, I always knew I'd be Head Boy and Gryffindor Keeper my senior year," he was saying. "Although I wanted to be Quidditch Captain, too…but you'll never know when Potter finally pulls the plug…he's almost died every year he's been here, maybe this year those Death Eaters will succeed—"

Hermione's lips tightened. In front of her, Ron could obviously hear them too, for his ears suddenly turned red.

_Just ignore him. Just ignore him. Just ignore—_

"—thought I'd be top of the year too, but did you know that Granger scored higher on her exams than any of the N.E.W.T. students? Mind you, the O.W.L.s aren't nearly as hard…but she is quite a catch, you know…I certainly wouldn't mind if she wanted to do me next when she's done with Weasley and Potter…ha, I bet you I could shag her before Christmas—"

Her face reddened, and her hands shook. Ignoring him was no longer an option. By the goalposts, Ron slipped and missed his first goal.

"—what is the deal between her and them anyway? I don't know why she hangs out with them, they're not even good-looking. Especially Weasley, with his red hair and freckles…and have you seen how he's always bumbling around? What an oaf—it's surprising he's lasted as long as he has, being Potter's mate. You'd think by now the Death Eaters would have offed him. I heard my dad say he was almost a goner in the Department of Mysteries. Pity he wasn't—"

Hermione lost it. Her wand was out and the thought was formed before she even realized it, and a non-verbal spell went shooting straight towards McLaggen.

"Her-mione?"

She jumped as Viktor Krum appeared beside her. "Oh! V-Viktor! Have you…erm…have you come to watch the try-outs, then?"

"Yes, I haff been vanting to see how Potter does as Captain. Are you here for him as vell?" he said, sitting beside her.

"For Ron, mostly," she said, "He's up there, it looks like he's just finished trying out. He's just really nervous, and he's never played well with nerves…"

Viktor grunted.

Hermione heard Harry call McLaggen's name, and the Head Boy shot up to the goalposts in a rather zigzag manner, nearly bashing into Ron. Viktor furrowed his brow, watching as McLaggen missed the first two saves, then turned to look at Hermione.

"You know, that…erm…spell that you did to stop Peeves at the start of term," she said abruptly, voice high. "I've never seen anything like it. What's it called?"

Before he could answer, a black owl swooped down and landed on his lap.

"Oh, he's gorgeous. Is he yours?" Hermione asked.

Viktor reached out to pet it. It made a soft noise in its throat from the touch, but its sharp, calculating eyes stayed on Hermione.

"Yes," he said. "His name is Kiril. In mine country, ve are haffing many owls as our pets."

She reached out a hand to pet the bird when Kiril nipped at her finger. Viktor said something sharply in Bulgarian and his bird flew off, looking wounded.

"I am sorry, Her-mione. He doesn't take vell to strangers."

"No, no, it's fine…"

"Here…let me," Viktor said, taking her hand. He gently put her finger in his mouth, never taking his eyes off hers, and gently kissed her finger.

By now, the other Keepers had tried out. Harry announced Ron as the Gryffindor Keeper, yet again, and Cormac McLaggen sulked in the corner, red in the face. Hermione, however, wasn't paying attention. When Viktor was done, neither of them pulled away. All she could concentrate on was his hand in hers and his eyes on hers…

And all of a sudden, Hermione rather forgot to go congratulate Ron on becoming Keeper.

* * *

"Harry! Harry! Did you see me up there? Was I great or what? Well, I did miss that one save, but—where's Hermione? Was she watching? Wait, where's she gone?" said Ron after try-outs.

Harry looked up. He had just given his new Quidditch team and the reserves—who included the foul-mouthed Cormac McLaggen as reserve Keeper—his first speech as Captain. As was usual for them, Fred and George kept making remarks all through it that made the team laugh at them instead of paying attention to what Harry was saying. He didn't know how he had put up with five years of them before, and he suddenly felt sorry for Ron having to live with them.

As it was, no one trying out for the slot of Seeker reserve came even close to how good Harry had been, even in his first year, and he decided to go without a reserve.

"Fine. It's your splinching," Fred had said before he and George walked back to Hogsmeade.

Harry shrugged it off. He had gotten through five years as Seeker with no reserve so far. Granted, they had lost once or twice because of it, but there were no dementors hanging around this year, and no Voldemort dressed in a turbin to make him lose consciousness.

_And besides. There are more important things than winning._

He stopped. _Did I just say that? Oh, Ron would kill me if he heard…_

"Last I saw, she was walking off the field with Viktor Krum. He was watching you, did you know?" said Harry. If he thought Ron would beam at this, however, he was dead wrong. At once, the smile slid off his friend's face and he scowled.

"Why was _he _here?" he said moodily.

"…well, he is the Quidditch teacher and referee. It makes sense he would be at all the Houses' try-outs. He only arranged them," said Harry.

Ron only grunted in answer and left for the dressing rooms, leaving Harry to clean up the mess. The rest of the team and the reserves trooped off the field, and Harry started to put the Quidditch balls away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny break away from Dean Thomas and Katie Bell to come and join him.

"You were really brilliant today, Harry," she said, joining him in rounding up the school brooms.

Harry colored. "Er…thanks."

"I think you'll make a great captain. You were always good at teaching people. Have you thought about coming back to teach at Hogwarts after you graduated? We could always use a Defense professor—after that curse is broken, of course," she added hastily.

Harry nodded, remembering what Professor Jones had said about the position. "Ever since I heard my dad was an Auror, I've wanted to be one. Ron fancies himself as one too, you know," he said.

Together they wrestled the two Bludgers into the crate, then Harry locked it shut.

"It's great that the D.A. is going to be a part of the whole school now," said Ginny, casually. "So how is…erm…how are things going with you and Cho Chang anyway?"

"Not good, seeing how we left things last year," Harry replied. "I saw her in the hall today. She couldn't even look at me."

Ginny clucked in sympathy.

Harry looked sideways at her. "So how're…how're things with Dean?"

There was a growl in his stomach at the mention of Dean Thomas that had nothing to do with hunger.

"Oh…fine…just fine…" said Ginny, growing pink.

There was an uncomfortable silence as they started walking back to the Gryffindor locker rooms. By the time they got there, everyone had already changed out of their robes and left, leaving the room unlit. There was still a silence between them after they had changed into their regular clothes and were heading back up to the castle.

Harry was idly looking into the Forbidden Forest on his right, when he suddenly stopped.

Gleaming eyes…a black dog…

"Harry? What is it?"

"I…I...I thought I saw…" Harry stammered, still staring. But when he blinked, it was gone. Just a trick of the light.

"You thought you saw…?" Ginny prompted.

"It…it's stupid," said Harry, shaking his head to get the image out of it. "You wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Try me," said Ginny, stubbornness audible in her voice.

"I…" Harry sighed. "I thought I saw Padfoot, okay? I must be seeing things. I know he couldn't really be there…just, nevermind. It's ridiculous."

"That's not ridiculous. Or stupid. Not even in the least. I know it's not the same, but when I was little my uncle Bilius lived with us for a while. He was like Fred and George, always good for a laugh, and he got along well with everyone." She smiled, remembering. "I was always his favorite, because I was the only girl. He played with me when the others went off to Hogwarts, and taught me and Ron quite a few tricks to play on Fred and George…and when he died it was like this big part of me went missing with him."

She hesitated, then continued. "That's when I first saw him in the orchard. I went running to Mum about it, she thought I had just fallen asleep, but it kept happening. Mum and Dad were about this close to committing me to St. Mungo's for a while because I saw him everywhere. It couldn't have just been that he was a ghost because nobody else saw him. I still don't know why it happened. Maybe I was just too little to understand what death meant. But believe it or not, it happens all the time…people seeing the ones they lost even when they know they're dead. It's not stupid. It just…is."

Harry looked at her. He didn't know what he had been expecting from her. Hermione would have given him sympathy, and he didn't want to be pitied. Ron would have shuffled his feet and pretended he hadn't heard, and Harry didn't want to be ignored either.

But Ginny…she understood. And that helped more than anything.

"I just feel so guilty," he suddenly burst out. "_All_ the time. It just…kills me, knowing that he died because of me. That it's my fault he isn't here. And there are times I forget he's dead and I'm laughing with you guys and then I remember, and it's like feeling that if I ever have fun or laugh again, it's…it's abusing his memory that he saved our lives and we're not even remembering him for it. And this isn't the only time I've seen him, too. There was once over the summer at Diagon Alley, and then twice at the Burrow, and...and on the train, too. It just…it feels like I'm going insane. It feels like he's doing this to torment me, to tell me that it's my fault, and he's going to haunt me as a Grim until…until _I_ die in this war too."

He finished ranting, and it suddenly felt so _good _to get it off his chest, even when he'd never spoken of this to anyone before. And it suddenly felt right that it was to Ginny Weasley, of all people. But now that it was said, he wondered what she was going to think of him now, knowing the truth about how he felt…

She stayed silent until he was done, eyes scanning his face. Finally, she said, "Harry…you don't _really _think he's the Grim, do you?"

Out of relief more than humor, Harry laughed.

"No, really, I mean it," she continued. "He's not trying to _haunt _you to death, Harry. You see him in his Animagus form because that's what you're familiar with…not because he wants you to die from seeing him. Don't you get it? He's proud of you! For everything you've done, for being your father's boy, for wanting to follow in his footsteps, for excelling at Quidditch…of course he'd want to be with you! Of course he'd be here on the grounds for you. You know him. He wouldn't leave your side for anything. Not even death."

"But why isn't he mad at me?" Harry said. "After everything I did—"

"That's why he isn't mad at you. It's _because _of everything you did. You put yourself in danger just to go save him when you thought he was dying. He's like a father to you. And you're like a son to him. That's why he put himself in danger to go save you. It's how he wanted to die, you know. I overheard him and Lupin talking at Grimmauld Place that winter. He said that if there was one way he wanted to go, it was while saving you. He died fulfilling that dream, Harry. He died not because of you, but because of what you mean to him," she said softly, looking up at him.

A small smile appeared on Harry's face at this.

It was this, more than anything that anyone had said over the summer that helped Harry get over his godfather's death. He felt a calmness wash over him at her words as well as a new scent—that of something warm and red and smelling of flowers. It made him feel giddy inside and he barely noticed that they were walking closer together.

All he knew was that he never wanted this feeling to go away—not even when he was thinking of the war, or of Voldemort, or of how they were supposed to kill each other in the end. He only knew that at this moment, no matter what happened, everything was going to be all right.

And it was because of this that Harry Potter told Ginny Weasley about the prophecy.


	16. The Draught of Living Death

**THE DRAUGHT OF LIVING DEATH**

"The Draught of Living Death is a potion so powerful there is only one known antidote. If not given this antidote, the drinker will be unable to wake until they have died of natural causes. The antidote is known as the Wiggenweld Potion. As the nearest vial is kept safely in the Royal Apothecary in Denmark, I suggest reserving a bed in the hospital wing before you take a sample of your own Draught," said Snape as he prowled the front of the room, "...and pray it isn't _potent_... Instructions are on the board. You may begin."

Harry stared at page ten of his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making _by Libatius Borage, and tried to make sense of it.

Beside him, Hermione was busy muttering away. She kept stealing glances at Draco Malfoy as she chopped up her valerian roots, and Harry couldn't blame her. For the past three and a half weeks, Malfoy had taken to beating her in every single Potions class. Harry for one had no idea how anyone could have beaten her in any one of her classes, but he saw her looking darkly at Malfoy's Potions book, as if it was to be blamed.

"I swear on Merlin's name I am going to find out how he's been doing this if it kills me!" she said furiously just the other day.

"Swearing? Our Hermione?" said Ron in disbelief. "Never!"

Hermione chose at that moment to tell him to go do something that made Harry whistle, impressed.

_But how she's going to find out what Malfoy's doing, I've no clue, _he thought as he stirred his cauldron. _I, for one, have bigger plimpies to fry without getting caught up in how the slithering git's cheating on tests..._

"If you could quit daydreaming like a lovelorn Muggle schoolgirl, _Potter_," said a dark, silky voice to his right, "Perhaps you would get your potion to look more like Malfoy's light salmon shade instead of your own candied red."

Malfoy snickered, and a flustered Harry turned his attention to his potion once more. But his red potion looked more like a rosy shade instead of a candied one, and roses made him think of the flowery smell he got from Ginny when he told her about what the prophecy said.

_Ah...Ginny…_

He smiled.

He had been rather surprised after he finished reciting it to her. Not for the first time, he was quite astounded by how she acted. Instead of being depressed or sad, like how he thought she might be, she rather took the Sorting Hat's view on the matter and chose to be mad instead.

"You mean you actually believe in it? This isn't Ron or Hermione's doing, is it, because it's a load of shite, Harry, is what it is. The only reason you were targeted in the first place is because Voldemort decided on a whim that you were more of a danger to him instead of Neville. It's because of Voldemort believing in the prophecy that he's after you. If he didn't believe in it, he wouldn't be after you, and you wouldn't be the 'only one who can defeat him', now would you?" she had said.

He barely had time to feel proud of her—she had never said Voldemort's name before, this was her first—

"But he _is _after me, which means the prophecy is true and I _am_ the only one who can defeat him," said Harry. "Either way, he's going to keep coming after me until he kills me just to make sure that I don't kill him first. Either way, the prophecy is still true. Either way, I'm screwed."

She sighed. "No, you're not. If the prophecy is true, it means you have a power that he doesn't know of. Which means that even if he is faster and smarter and more powerful, you still have a pretty damn good chance of beating him. Just like how you beat him when you were a baby. Just like how you beat him when you were facing Quirrell in your first year. Just like how you beat him in the Chamber of Secrets in your second year. Just like how you beat him in the cemetery in your fourth year. Just like how you beat him in the Department of Mysteries in your fifth year—"

"All right! I get it," said Harry.

A part of him still knew that him beating Voldemort those times was only through luck. But it did make him think about what this power even was that 'the Dark Lord knows not'.

_Perhaps 'luck' is the power it's referring to. It could be through luck that I finally kill him. Maybe he shows up to finish me off but forgets his wand. Or he aims it at me, says the Killing Curse, and it isn't till he's dead on the floor that he realizes he pointed the wrong end of the stick at me._

He hastily covered up his snicker when Snape shot him a glare. Hastily, he went back to work and added a pinch of wormwood powder to his Draught.

_Or it could be Occlumency. Voldemort doesn't know I've been practicing that, _Harry thought. _Or that I'm rather good at it._

"Harry, would you mind switching knives?" Hermione whispered once Snape was across the room. "I need a silver blade like yours."

Harry nodded. They switched and he cut up the rest of his sopophorous bean before he saw with confusion that Hermione wasn't cutting hers up at all, but crushing it flat with her borrowed silver knife.

He looked up at the directions hastily to see if he'd been doing it wrong all along—then did a double-take when he saw that it was _Hermione _who had it wrong.

_That's definitely not like her to be disobeying instructions, _he thought, then shrugged. _It's her funeral._

He went back to his musings from before as he pretended to be studiously stirring his cauldron for Snape's benefit.

_The power the Dark Lord knows not..._

_Ha. It could be stupidity. That one can be rather powerful when you end up killing a fellow student by insisting they take hold of the disguised portkey with you just because you're being noble, for once. _

_Or when you think Voldemort's torturing your godfather when it turns out you were just dreaming._

He scowled. It must have been the pale fumes from his cauldron, because his eyes were rather watery. He shook his head and finished stirring his potion.

"Psst! Harry!" hissed Ron from Harry's right. "Is it supposed to be this...urgh...diarrhea color?"

"Er...I don't think so," said Harry. He peered in Ron's cauldron, but quickly drew his head back, coughing and eyes watering. "I don't think it's supposed to _smell_ like diarrhea either!"

Ron groaned.

Harry got up and slipped to the storage cabinet for some essence of sloth brain. _Where's Goyle when you need him? _he thought, and hastily covered his snicker. He almost tripped on D.A. member Ernie Macmillan's foot heading back to his desk.

He thought back to the first Defense Association meeting held that Sunday before. The Great Hall had been packed with several hundred students from all Houses—even the odd dozen Slytherins had decided to show. The first half-hour consisted mostly of Harry and Moony talking to them about the war, fighting, and what to expect from the D.A. classes.

"I know! Give them the same speech you gave us at the start of the D.A. last year, Harry," Ron had told him before they started. "You know, about it not all being flitterblooms and puffapods, and the thing about the...you know..."

That first meeting was mostly aimed towards figuring out where each person was, magically. They split the students up into two groups according to where they were in Defense. Moony was in charge of the first group, which comprised mostly of first-, second-, and third-years, and they started off with the Disarming Spell. Harry himself worked with the older students on mastering the Stunner. The members of the D.A. from last year as well as most of the seventh-years knew most of the spells they were starting out with, of course, and served as Harry's and Moony's helpers working with the less competent students. This made the time go by more quickly as Harry didn't have to work one-on-one with each student, as he'd had the year previous.

_All in all, it was a success, _thought Harry. He was rather looking forward to the next meeting, planning on what he wanted to teach the students next—

"Time," Snape called. "Wands on desks."

The Potions master walked around the room, making various comments about the contents of their cauldrons. When he came to Harry's table, however, he stopped.

"Potter's looks like he has scooped it out of a troll's nasal cavity, as usual," he sneered. He peered into Ron's cauldron. "And Mr. Weasley...ten points from Gryffindor for forcing the class to breathe your abysmally foul odor. Ah, Miss Granger, I see that you've been taking a leaf from Mr. Malfoy's book."

Harry looked over and saw that Hermione's potion was just as clear as Malfoy's was. Malfoy scowled, but Hermione was wearing a satisfied look under the perspiration of her brow and flyaway wisps in her hair, and did not wither under their professor's glare.

"Very well, then," Snape continued, a smirk growing on his face. "If you believe you have done well enough, why don't you have a sample of your own Draught and we'll see if it works?"

There was a collective intake of breath among the students.

It was because of Snape's teaching that they knew whoever drank the Draught of Living Death fell into so deep a sleep they never woke from it—he himself had told them that Hogwarts didn't even have the antidote. And Harry and Ron, who knew Hermione never brewed an impotent potion, did more than just gasp.

"What, are you _crazy—_?"

"Are you trying to poison—?"

"Ten points each for talking out of turn. I believe I asked Miss Granger, not her two blundering bodyguards," Snape hissed at them.

The look on Hermione's face hadn't changed. She met Snape's challenge with a leveled expression, and after a long moment of silence, she opened her mouth—

"I'll do it."

This time, the exclamation wasn't just from Harry and Ron.

"Are you _mad, _Granger?" Blaise Zabini hissed.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life in St. Mungo's?" said Terry Boot.

"You're not invincible you know—" said Amanda Smythe.

"Hermione, you know that's a potent Draught," said Harry harshly. "Don't do it—"

"Don't let him egg you on like this," Ron whispered furiously. "You don't have to prove anything."

Hermione jerked her hand out of Ron's reach as she dipped her ladle into her potion. "I can take care of myself!" she hissed at them.

"Not from bloody _death, _you can't!" Ron said, aghast, just as Snape snapped at the room to be quiet.

They all watched with bated breath as she brought the ladle to her lips and downed it in one gulp, all without taking her leveled eyes off Snape. Harry watched her closely after she swallowed, prepared to catch her if she suddenly slumped over. But her face didn't turn green, her eyes stayed open, she kept breathing in and out, and the liquid stayed inside her mouth—her _smirking_ mouth, in fact—

"Twenty points to Gryffindor," seethed Professor Snape between clenched teeth, his face twisting into a scowl. "Class dismissed."

He strode out of the room and slammed the door behind him. At once, the other students merged onto Hermione.

"What happened?"

"How did you know—?"

"Was it a faulty potion?"

"Of course it wasn't faulty!" said Hermione, looking insulted. "It was a perfectly brewed Draught! But Professor Snape and I both know that the Draught of Living Death is only potent when it's stored below ten degrees Celsius."

There was a pause at these words.

"So..." said Ron, still clueless.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I was drinking it warm."

There was a silence, until Ron spoke.

"...wow," said Ron, impressed. "You _are_ bloody brilliant!"

* * *

The entire school was buzzing about Hermione besting Snape in Potions by the next day, and Hermione awoke on the nineteenth of September with a smile on her face. It wasn't until she saw the presents at the foot of her bed, however, did she remember why.

_Today is my birthday. My seventeenth birthday._

With happiness, Hermione began to unwrap her presents. From her parents, there was the complete set of Valentina Jett's magical _Of Heroes and Heroines _series. There was also a small bag full of Galleons and a note from her mother to buy herself a really nice set of dress robes at Hogsmeade. Next to that was a rather lumpy present, but Hermione squealed nonetheless when she held up the royal blue Weasley sweater with her name scrolled elegantly on the front.

"Perhaps she had one too many 'H' names," she muttered with a grin, thinking of Harry receiving one as well.

It was something Hermione had always secretly yearned for. It was like a rite of passage into the Weasley family, and she was going to wear it with pride.

Next to the sweater, Harry had bought her an expensive silver knife for Potions—'_So you don't have to keep borrowing mine,' _he had written in the note that came with. There was a bag full of Chocolate Frog cards—and no Chocolate Frogs—that came from Hagrid, and surprisingly Luna had given her a collection of fine, expensive quills. Not so surprisingly, Ginny had got her a hair kit with a number of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion bottles, and rather pretty hair clips; and Neville thought to give her a book on Herbology by Balfour Marjoribanks.

When she opened Ron's present, she gasped. It was a very advanced potions kit that looked quite exquisite and rather expensive for him. She played with it for about twenty minutes, inspecting every detail and taking out each glass vial with awe and delight.

She unwrapped an unknown present next, and a note in a pretty scrawl said,

_Dear Hermione,_

_Happy Birthday! Congratulations on your coming-of-age! I really enjoyed our talk on the first day of term and wanted to thank you for your kindness. Please accept this gift and use it to treasure your most prized possessions. It has an undetectable extension charm on it, it can be shrunk to fit into your pocket along with its contents, and can also be disillusioned. It has been of great use to me over the years, and I have taken very good care of it, hoping that it would benefit another young witch as it has benefited me. I truly admire your knowledge and courage and hope we can be the greatest of friends this school-year. __See you in Defense!_

_My warmest regards,_

_Hestia _

Hermione gasped at the small, purple beaded bag that rolled out of the wrappings, admiring it from every angle, her entire arm getting lost inside it as she stuck it in, regardless of how shallow the bag appeared on the outside. Glowing with praise from Professor Jones' words, Hermione tucked the note inside her new bag and set it aside.

Then she noticed two more presents on her bed. One was a small gift with the Durmstrang crest that must be from Viktor, but the other—

Hermione smiled as the wrappings revealed a small book. It was small and brown and its cover read, in faded gold peeling letters, _Artificium Merlini_. She gaped as she picked it up carefully with experienced hands. It was at least a fair few hundred years old—she hadn't even seen a book like this in the bookshops of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade—and it was written entirely in Latin.

_It must be worth a fair fortune! _she thought, turning it over in her hands. _But who—_

A note slipped out of the pages.

_Hermione—_

_You need this more than we do. Have fun with the translation._

A broad smile spread across her face. It was signed by Professor Lupin and Professor Dumbledore. She made a reminder to heartily thank them at breakfast.

"Oh, _dear!_ It is your birthday, isn't it? So sorry to have forgot," said Lavender, pouting as she walked in from the lavatory and dried her hair with her wand.

_You forget every year, _thought Hermione irritably. _Please remind me not to slip that perfume I always get on Christmas from my uncle on your bed for your own birthday this year._

This left the last present. Just as she'd thought, it was from Viktor, and was a jewelry box, in fact. A small black amulet was found inside—a red rose carved on black obsidian. It hung on a single black cord, and with it a note—

_Please accept this gift from me. It used to be my mother's and I want you to have it._

_The black and red are Durmstrang colors, and they mean a lot to me...just as you do._

_Happy birthday, my Hermione._

—_Yours, Viktor_

Hermione turned a beet red.

"_Oooooh!_ What have we here?" Lavender squealed.

Before Hermione could protest, the long-haired blonde whipped the note out of her hands and read it aloud to Parvati. The two gasped and giggled when she was done.

"Oh, it's perfect! Not really your colors, but—"

"But, Hermione! Have you two started going out, then?"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"He's _gor_geous! Those black, brooding eyes—"

"His dark, wavy hair—"

"Why, it's something right out of a Witch Weekly serial—"

"Oh, stop it, you two!" Hermione snapped, snatching her necklace away from them. She rummaged through her wardrobe for a clean shirt. "I really couldn't wear this—he's just come back, and he's a teacher, and I don't even know if I like him that way—"

"You _do!" _said Parvati firmly. "All you need to rekindle your romance is one date in Hogsmeade, and he's yours!"

Lavender suddenly gasped. "This isn't a _Love Locket_, is it?"

"What's a Love Lock—"

"It's only the best gift a man could ever give you!" Parvati gushed. "Well, besides his...you know..."

The Twittering Twins erupted in furious giggles. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Erm, anyway," said Lavender, once they had stopped. "Love Lockets have some sort of potion in them and a bit of the wizard, like his hair or something. Then when the witch he gives it to wears it around their neck, they immediately fall in love with the guy—you know, like a Love Potion? Only it makes you fall in love _only _with him—"

"—and if they already were in love, like my dad gave one to my mum, it just...you know...makes them _want _them more," Parvati said suggestively. She looked at Lavender as she said this last, and the two smirked some more.

Hermione suppressed a sigh, but couldn't help but blush all the same. "This is _definitely _not that, then."

"Oh, try it on! It still could be!" said Lavender, taking the necklace back from Hermione and fastening it around her neck. "See? It looks simply divine on you!"

"Do you..._feel _anything?" asked Parvati, grinning wickedly.

Hermione looked at it resting on her collarbone. Just as she had suspected, she felt no sudden rush of emotion towards Viktor.

"No," she said primly, rolling her eyes, and rummaged through her wardrobe.

They walked back to their beds, their interest waning.

"Not like she would anyway," she heard Lavender whisper quietly to Parvati. "She's got all the womanly desires of a hag, I bet. Viktor Krum could put a gallon of Love Potion in there and she'd just think he was _nice."_

Hermione felt stung. Her back was still to them, but she didn't want them to know that she had heard...or that it had hurt.

_Is that really what they think of me? That I don't feel any...desires?_

Oh, she felt them all right...just because she didn't jump on every other guy at school...or brag about snogging half the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team...

_I just don't act on it at all, unlike the average school-aged whore, _she thought furiously, ripping a few buttons in her haste to get her pajama shirt off. _I don't get all hormone-crazed just because a bloke smiles at me in the corridor. I don't just get giddy when Cormac McLaggen walks into the room, or Stephen Cornfoot...or Viktor..._

"Fine," she said, whirling to face them and slipping her school skirt on. "I'll wear it. But it will be _under _my robes, mind you—"

Lavender smirked. "Want him closer to your heart, do you?"

"Or your—_other_ feminine body parts?" said Parvati, wiggling eyebrows suggestively, and the two burst into giggles again.

Hermione rolled her eyes and followed the Twittering Twins out the door.

* * *

Ron was moody.

He and Harry were already seated at breakfast when Hermione joined them. Ron scooted over to make room for her, as he and Harry continued staring up at the front of the Hall. Hermione thanked them for their gifts, but they still looked preoccupied.

"What is it?" asked Hermione, helping herself to some pumpkin juice.

"Oh, happy birthday, Hermione. Something's up," said Ron, narrowing his eyes at Krum. "Nobody's up at the teachers' table. When we came down, Dumbledore called all the teachers to a staff meeting. All except Krum, who's supposed to keep an eye on us..."

_Bloody bastard, _thought Ron inconsequentially. He plopped a few more slices of toast on his plate just as a parliament of owls swooped in. "Mail's here."

"Well, maybe something around here can tell us what's going on," Hermione muttered as she seized her newspaper from a school owl. She opened it to the front page. Her face turned as white as the paper.

"Oh _no!" _she whispered. "Oh no, oh no, oh _no_…"

Ron was at her side in an instant, Harry just behind him, reading over her shoulder.

**DEMENTORS FLEE AZKABAN!**

**MINISTRY IN CHAOS TRYING TO FIND THEM**

"I can't believe it!" Hermione gasped after they had read the article. "Hundreds! Simply _hundreds_ of them let loose..."

"Well, that explains it," said Harry woodenly. "Dumbledore's having an emergency meeting as we speak. I expect they'll be closing Hogwarts' doors any day now."

"Wait—what?"

"Oh come on, Ron. Who's going to want their kids running off to school like good little children when there're life-sucking monsters loose all over the place?" said Hermione.

"It really is no surprise," said Harry. "Dementors have been leaving Azkaban for weeks now. The Ministry's doing everything they can to keep the remaining prisoners there, but with only witches and wizards guarding the fortress...another mass breakout is inevitable now...and every Death Eater that was captured during the Department of Mysteries will be out within the week..."

"Well, happy damn birthday to me…" Hermione said. It was a mark of how dire the situation was that neither Ron or Harry said anything about her swearing.

It was with a very subdued air that they ate the rest of their breakfast. It seemed the news spread very quickly, for everyone in the Great Hall was particularly quiet as they finished up their food and made their way to their first class.

"D'you think we'll even have it?" asked Ron as they merged into the entrance hall. "It's Care of Magical Creatures, isn't it?"

"Ye—"

"Mr. Weasley! If I might speak with you for a moment?" said McGonagall, bustling over to them.

Ron's face turned ashen. "Is it—"

"No, it has nothing to do with the dementors," she said, but her voice was still rather stern. "Come with me, if you will. This does not concern you, Potter, Granger."

Ron looked at them, confused. They shrugged, and he watched them walk away.

"To my office, please," said McGonagall, shaking her head. "I am very disappointed in you, Mr. Weasley!"

Ron followed her, still bewildered. "But what..."

* * *

An hour later, Hermione and Harry were waiting in the common room for Ron. They had a study period and both were trying to work on the essay Hagrid had given them on the classification of dangerous beasts by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, titled _Ministry Classification and Why It's Faulty. _It was rather useless, however, as they both kept thinking about why Professor McGonagall would need Ron.

They didn't have long to wait—the Fat Lady's portrait banged open, revealing a red-faced Ron. He stomped into the room and threw his bag onto the floor.

"Ron—what—" said Hermione, perplexed.

"CHEATING!" Ron roared at them. "They accused me of _cheating!"_

"Wait—_what_?" Harry said.

The color drained from Hermione's face. He wasn't talking about—he _couldn't_ be talking about—

The entire common room had stopped what they were doing to listen in—not that they had to stop talking in order to hear Ron's thunderous yells.

"When was this?" said Hermione, hardly daring to breathe.

Ron gritted his teeth and snarled, "_Apparently_, your jumped-up boyfriend was there at the try-outs and saw moron McLaggen flying around. He was fine one minute and Confunded the next—and they think _I_ did it! Just so I could get a spot in Quidditch!" He took a deep breath and collapsed on the sofa next to Harry. "They said they're kicking me off the team," he finished stonily.

Neither Harry nor Ron noticed how pale Hermione had got, or how her hands had flown to her mouth when Ron had said this last.

The Gryffindor Quidditch Team at once congregated around Ron.

"But they can't do that!" cried Maggie McGonagall.

"It's not fair—that's like what Bloody Umbridge did last year to Harry and the twins—" said Katie Bell.

"Hang on—they _can't _do that!" said Harry. "I'm Quidditch Captain, remember? It's my call—"

"Not when it comes to cheating, Harry," Ginny reminded him. "When it comes to any schoolwork at all, it's the Head of House's decision."

"Just face it, Harry. I'm a goner." Ron's voice was unusually weak; his freckled face had a bleak expression.

"Oh no, no, no..." Hermione finally whispered behind her hands. "Ron, I am _so_ sorry!"

"It's not your fault," he said, forlorn.

She slowly lowered her hands. "But it is," she said, almost inaudibly. "_I_ Confunded him!"

Ron's head jerked around. Harry stared at her in disbelief.

"_You_ hexed him?" said Harry. "But he's Head Boy! You're a prefect!"

"_I know!"_ Hermione wailed. "I shouldn't've done it, but if you'd heard the things he said about us—and I wasn't sure Ron would—"

"No, it's all right!" said Harry, turning back to Ron. "If Hermione confesses that it was her and not you, they'll have to let you back on!"

Ron, however, did not seem to hear Harry's words. Instead, he was staring at Hermione with a look on his face that took Hermione aback.

"_You_ did it?" Ron said quietly to Hermione.

"I did, and I'm sorry, and I shouldn't've, but I wasn't sure you would—"

"That...I'd..._what_?" he said, voice dangerously quiet. Ginny's hand left his shoulder. The people gathered around them suddenly made themselves scarce.

"Th-that—you'd—erm—" Hermione stuttered, alarmed at the furious expression on his face, the venom in his words, that look in his eyes...

"That I'd beat him, is that it?" said Ron, voice rising. "You didn't think that I would beat him at Keeping, so _you_ thought you'd better step in then, didn't you? What, were you trying to keep me from making a fool of myself—?"

"No!" she cried, aghast. "Ron, I would _never—_"

"Thought you would just step in and save me the humiliation, didn't you!" he shouted.

"Ron, I _wouldn't!"_

"Ron, I don't think—" Harry started.

"Shut up, Harry!" Ron yelled, and Harry's mouth clamped shut.

Ron whirled back to Hermione. "I don't NEED you to fight my battles! I can bloody well take care of myself!"

"Ron, please, that's not what I was trying to do—" she pleaded.

"And now you're going to sit there and LIE to me about it! I can't believe you think I'm stupid enough to—that I'm _pathetic_ enough you'd—"

"Ron, I—"

"_Don't!"_ Ron growled at her.

He snatched up his bag and stomped up the stairs, leaving a very upset Hermione, and rather bewildered Harry, behind him.

All in all, Hermione thought miserably, this was not a very good birthday.

* * *

If Harry thought that Ron would forgive Hermione and come to his senses within a day or two, he was very wrong.

Several times Harry witnessed her go up to Ron and apologize, but he left without giving her a glance. Harry, of course, was torn between his two best friends; and like all other times in the past, hung out mostly with Ron, if only to knock some sense into him.

"Don't even try," said Ron as Harry opened his mouth to speak about it.

"But couldn't you—"

"No."

"But she—"

"_No!"_

"But, Ron—"

"NO!"

And that was the end of their discussion.

As for Hermione, Harry had never seen her so disquieted. Instead of justifying her actions and retaliating, as she normally would have done, she took to punishing herself more than Ron was doing—something which suited Ron just fine.

"You know what you need to do, don't you?" said Harry the next day.

"Yes," she said miserably.

"Do you need me to go in with you?" said Harry kindly.

"No," she said, still miserable.

"It won't be that bad. She wouldn't expel you—you're her best student. _The _best student, in fact, remember? You'll prolly just get a slap on the wrist, a detention or two, and a be-on-your-merry-way. Just grit your teeth, go in there, and 'fess up."

And so, she did just that.

As she recounted to him later, McGonagall had been appalled. In fact, she hadn't yelled at all but kept her voice dangerously quiet—the tone she used when most disappointed. Hermione had lost Gryffindor House fifty points for her "blatant indecency in harming the Head Boy, not to mention fraudulence!"

She was still able to keep her prefect badge(something which shocked Hermione), nor was she expelled, or put on suspension—the three things Hermione had feared the most.

"There...see, it wasn't so bad..." said Ginny, rubbing her back.

"I've got detention every day for two weeks!" Hermione moaned. "I've _never_ had detention before!"

"_Never?"_ said Ginny, astounded.

"Well, there was that one time in first year, when we had to go into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid...but..." Harry hesitated, looking at Hermione as if for the first time. "You seriously never get detention."

"Hermione...you definitely need to get out more," said Ginny fervently.

Hermione was in detention with Professor Flitwick when McGonagall re-held the Keeper try-outs for Cormac McLaggen's benefit. Harry felt bad for her, and kept glancing at the castle, hoping she could see the try-outs. Hermione told him that she tried to clean the Charms windows as slowly as she could while watching the Quidditch pitch from afar. There wasn't much she could make out, however, and as soon as it was done she ran up to Harry, asking how it went.

As soon as Ron saw her, he turned his back and walked up to the boys' dorms. Harry knew Hermione believed the worst.

"No, it's all right!" He reassured her. "He beat McLaggen, but it was rather close."

She nodded, watching Ron's back as he disappeared from view.

It wasn't soon after that the whole school had heard about Hermione, the "perfect prefect", hexing the Head Boy. It was a mark of how pompous McLaggen was that most of the students congratulated her, but there were still some that jeered and made fun. Even their professors were seen to shoot her a disapproving glare during their classes.

"They're just surprised, is all," said Ginny to Harry one day, after Harry had commented on it. "I mean, she's been known as the goody-two-shoes teacher's pet for six years now. They've all built her up as some perfect image that can do no evil...anyone would have cracked under all that pressure, really. And now that she's shown she's just as human as the rest of us, they see it as a personal attack on their beliefs. Rather like how the media is with you and Dumbledore, really."

Harry nodded as they came to a stop at the gargoyle on the Headmaster's floor.

"Well, good luck, Harry," said Ginny, and after an awkward pause, she left.

He proceeded up the revolving staircase after giving it the password.

He tried to block Dumbledore out of his mind the best he could, but his heart wasn't really in it. After a few more half-hearted attempts on his part, Dumbledore finally excused Harry for the night.

"You'd do well to get that problem of yours solved by next week, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore before he left. "We really can't waste anymore time."


	17. Griffins and Slytherins

**Author's Note: Well, this is the longest chapter yet, capping in at 6,495! I was planning on posting last night, but with this huge storm, a power outage, and the belief that I could squeeze in just one more scene, changing the plotline of this chapter immeasurably, I just didn't quite finish in time. **

**But you know what they say. One witch's wart is worth two galleons in gold. **

**And two galleons in gold is worth one review, I'm told! ;-)**

* * *

**GRIFFINS AND SLYTHERINS**

Neville Francis Longbottom wasn't good at many things.

He wasn't the best in any of his classes, he wasn't the brightest in their year, and he wasn't the favorite of their teachers. He hadn't been picked to be Gryffindor prefect, like his dad. He hadn't even tried out for Quidditch captain, like his mum. He hadn't bothered to put his vote in for captain of the Gobstones Team, like his gran. And he decided that running for president of the Chocolate Frog Card Collectors—like his Great-Uncle Algie had done at his age—wasn't something to achieve for.

He was plain. Simple. Ordinary.

Until he joined the D.A.

When Neville joined the D.A. in his fifth year, something remarkable happened. Neville felt wanted. Needed. Like he deserved the wand he held in his hand. Being part of the D.A. last year was the best thing that had ever happened to Neville.

At first, he just couldn't get anything down. He needed tons of help, and Harry didn't have time to give him one-on-one. But when Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers escaped, a fire within him that he didn't even know he'd had, had been ignited. His parents' lives had been ruined, thanks to them. His Gran's life had been ruined. _His _life had been ruined. And so he had made a vow to do more than his best. To work harder than everyone else so that when the time came, he would be able to defend himself.

Because of his fervor and determination, he skyrocketed in classes. He was third to do a nonverbal spell, after Ron. He was the second to accomplish defensive spells, after Hermione. And he was the best caster of the Patronus Charm in their school—barring Harry Potter, of course. And Luna Lovegood, oddly enough.

When he first tried to get this spell down, it had taken him weeks of practicing. That first lesson that Harry taught about Patronus Charms—the one during which Umbridge had found them out—Neville couldn't get it at all. All summer, he practiced. He tried happy memories: visiting his parents in the hospital, winning the Gryffindors the House Cup in first year, seeing that he hadn't killed Harry during the second task after all...but none of it worked. Until he tried the feeling he got while he was in the D.A.

And that is how the silver badger became his guardian.

* * *

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

"Very good, Neville!" said Harry, walking over to the other Gryffindor. It was Sunday morning, and the DA was practicing hard. The badger Patronus frolicked about Neville as he stood beaming. "Now listen. I need you to teach Alexandra Rosier how to cast the spell. She came in late and missed the demonstration—"

Neville turned white at the thought of teaching someone. "I don't think—"

"You're ready, Nev. I know you are." Harry lowered his voice so as not to be overheard. "Don't think I haven't noticed all the progress you've been making...especially since what happened in June. You were one of our best assets there, if not _the _best. And now it's time for you to teach others what you know. You're ready."

It took a great amount of courage as Neville squared his shoulders before walking over to the fifth-year Alexandra Rosier and corrected the way she held her wand.

_Not as much as it takes to fire curses at Death Eaters, of course, _Harry watched him with pride. _But he's gaining confidence. If there's any good that came out of the Department of Mysteries, that's it._

He looked around the Great Hall at the students practicing, whisps of Patronuses around them. Hermione was helping a fourth-year Slytherin in the corner, her own flourescent otter curled about her shoulders. By the dais, Ron was trying to show Lavender, who hadn't quite got it down last year. Her shrill giggles reached Harry's ears across the room. The rest of Dumbledore's Army was scattered abroad, watching out for anyone in need of help or correction.

If anything were to happen to any of them, Harry could at least take solace in the fact that they knew how to cast the Patronus Charm.

_Now, here's hoping they don't ever have to._

* * *

With aching muscles, Hermione collapsed on her maroon-covered canopied bed, too exhausted to take off her clothes and slip into some night things.

The D.A. lesson that day had been grueling, and she was just now feeling it. After the Patronus Charm had been demonstrated, Harry asked her to help a newcomer with their reductor curse and, needless to say, they didn't need help anymore. It only took Blaise Zabini one try before he blasted her back beyond the scattered cushions and twelve more feet into the wall. She now had bruises on top of her bruises...though he looked properly contrite.

Not only that, but Hermione had just come back from midnight patrol with Ron, and it was nothing short of torture. Ron wouldn't look at her, he wouldn't talk to her, he wouldn't even walk next to her, he just stormed ahead of her in stony silence.

Several times she apologized to him, pleaded with him to look at her, but it was like asking a healthy jobberknoll to speak.

His silence and his glares cut right through her and Hermione wondered forlornly if their friendship was truly over this time. She simply couldn't live with herself if it was.

Sighing, she kicked off her ankle boots and tucked her tight-covered toes into bed, shimming out of her outer cloak, tie, and vest, and undoing the top buttons in her school shirt for comfort.

But worry about Ron meant sleep evaded her, even as tired as she was, and well after midnight Hermione finally had to give up. She sat up in her bed, pulling the nearest book closest to her and setting her wand on minimum light.

It was Harry's mum's diary. Harry had given it to her at the end of classes, eyes never leaving hers as he discussed its importance.

"Listen, Hermione. I just got this back from Snape. He looked like he was sucking on a lemon, but he gave it to me just the same. I was going to sit down and just start reading it, but...look, I...I want you to…to...that is, would you mind terribly..."

"You want me to read it first and make sure there are no portions that are too revealing or too personal, or that might be hard for you to read?" Hermione finished for him, smiling warmly. "I'm on it, Harry."

He wouldn't stop staring at her, relieved that she understood him. But trying to wrench that book out of his hands was worse than wrestling _The Monster Book of Monsters_.

Hermione fingered the gold embossed letters on the cover before turning it open, breathing in the familiar, welcoming scent of the pages. She truly loved starting a book for the first time.

Settled, curled in bed, snug in her covers, Hermione read on into the night.

Until she came across something that completely shocked her.

* * *

The fire roared in the Gryffindor common room as Harry and Ron lay, half-thrown, on the couches, slouching against the cushions, their limbs flung about haphazardly.

It was evening. Dinner had just ended, and as much as the two boys hated their homework, they both had three feet due the next day on the dangers of transfiguring body limbs and why it was outlawed.

Harry dipped his quill into his inkpot and chewed the feather end absent-mindedly as he thought about what next to say.

A familiar-looking book slammed down in front of his eyes.

Startled, Harry looked up to see Hermione's grave face, mouth drawn in a line, arms crossed.

"Wha…"

"Hestia Jones is _not _who she says she is!" Hermione said dangerously.

Harry's jaw dropped. His foot, which had been resting on the coffee table beside his scrolls, clunked to the floor. He felt like Hermione had just poured ice water down his back.

"What do you mean, 'she's not who she says she is'?" he demanded.

Beside him, Ron had been practically upside-down on the couch, his legs draped over the back of it, and his books scattered around them on the floor. In his haste to right himself, he knocked over his own inkpot all over his Transfiguration book.

"What the _hell, _Hermione?" Ron roared, trying to clean up the sopping black mess, but just making it worse.

"Oh, please, like that's my fault," she retorted, already gearing up for a fight in her foul mood. "Just use _Tergeo, _Ron. Are you a wizard or not? If you didn't do your homework like an upside-down sloth, you wouldn't be bumbling around making messes with your oafish feet. Harry, she has been _lying _to us this entire time!"

"Like hell she has!" Harry snapped, sitting up and hastily capping his own inkpot before Ron could spill it too. "Jones has been here for us this entire time! There's no way she's working for—"

"How would you know? You've only known her for a month!" said Hermione. "Oh for _goodness _sake, Ron—"

She whipped out her wand and tried to clean up the mess up for Ron, before he made the carpet stains in the rug worse. It didn't vanish, however.

"It's everlasting ink, Hermione," Ron snarled. "You know McGonagall always requests it for essays—"

Hermione ignored him, and her attention turned back to Harry. He regrettably wished it hadn't.

"Look, see, this section here?" Hermione turned to a page and shoved it under Harry's nose. "Read it."

Harry did, scouring the page for any wrongdoings. He couldn't find any, however. All Jones was saying was that she wanted to come to Godric's Hollow and visit Lily, but it was her mother's birthday and Jones would have to wait till the next weekend.

"Er…"

His curiosity getting the better of him, Ron read the passage over Harry's shoulder. "What are you on about?" he said when he was done. "So what if she was going to go visit Harry's mum?"

"That's not the point! The point is, Hestia's mother was dead by this point. Who in the world throws a party for their dead mother?"

Her words, although innocent in their own wording, struck Harry.

"If I could throw a party for _my_ dead mother, I would," he said lowly, anger building up in his core at Hermione.

"That's not what I mean, Harry. In here she is acting like her mother is alive, but we both know her mum died before she left for Hogwarts. And that's not the only inconsistency, look—"

"How d'you know she's not talking about Lily's mum," Ron asked hotly. "This wording could have been about either of their mums. It doesn't mean Jones is false."

"But there are a dozen other instances! Look here, January 27, 1980, '_I can totally tell what you mean when you found out you were having a boy! It was quite the surprise to find out I was allowed at Hogwarts, I know it isn't quite the same thing, but life certainly is full of surprises_—'" Hermione broke off reading, looking at them all triumphantly. "See, this proves it! She was pureblood, wasn't she, so why would it have been a surprise that she was a witch? There's something she's not telling us. She lies constantly throughout this whole book, and—"

"I didn't give you this book so you could analyze it and use the people I am close to against me!" Harry finally snapped, snatching the book from her hands. "So what if she was surprised? Her parents could have been Squibs, for all you know! Or maybe she didn't have any wild magic when she was little. Or maybe they wanted to send her to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts. That doesn't mean she is evil!"

Their voices were getting louder, and it wasn't too long before they were the only ones in the common room, as arguments always tended to make others scarce.

"Oh please, Harry, you just don't want to admit that she could be because she talks to you about your mother," Hermione said scathingly. "You told me yourself at the start-of-term on our way to the castle that you didn't trust her! Perhaps it was your instincts, or your _scar_ even, you know how it twitches when Voldemort is close—"

Ron laughed in ridicule. "What, you think she's hiding You-Know-Who under that leather hat of hers?"

"You won't be making fun when you think she's taking us on a Hogsmeade outing when she's actually leading us straight to Voldemort," said Hermione, furious at him.

"Just because every other Defense professor we've had has been dark, Hermione, doesn't mean she is too," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "There's no need to get hysterical just because she doesn't share with you her every little secret."

"_Hysterical?_" Hermione snapped. "So just because I'm worried for your safety against _yet another _professor that Dumbledore has hired who is actually trying to _kill you_, you think I'm behaving just like...like a _useless, stupid girl_?"

Alarmed, Harry put his hands up in self-defense. "Now, don't go putting words in my mouth, Hermione. You know I'd never call you that."

"Well, I think if the broom fits, then ride it," Ron muttered under his breath with a sneer.

It was the wrong thing to say.

"Ron! That was completely uncalled for!" Hermione said, tears spilling out of her eyes. Harry was too annoyed at her to currently care. She whirled on Harry. "I don't know why I tried to warn you of her intentions, I should have known neither of you would listen to me! You never do!"

Furious, Hermione shoved against Harry as she tried to go around him and the couch. She forgot her strength, however, because Harry lost his balance and fell against the coffee table. As if time had slowed down, he saw his everlasting inkpot tip over. The lid he hadn't screwed on very tight just popped right off, and black ink poured furiously out of it.

Right onto the open pages of his mother's diary.

Horrified, the three teenagers watched as the ink completely ruined every single page of the book, then rolled off the book and seeped into Harry's nearly-completed essay as well.

Ron's jaw dropped open. Hermione gasped, her hands flying up to her mouth in shock.

And Harry...Harry, who'd lost his mother when he was only one...who was told by his aunt his whole life how horrible she was...who had nothing of his mother except his own eyes and one scrapbook to her name…

Just stared as the one thing he had been given that was truly hers was completely and heartbrokingly destroyed.

Before he ever even had a chance to read it.

The horror on Hermione's face was evident. But it did not match the horror, or the loathing, on his own.

"Harry, I—"

"Get. _Out."_

"But I—"

"GET OUT!" Harry roared.

He didn't know if she obeyed. He didn't care.

He collapsed on the sofa, head in his hands, and couldn't stop staring at the black, inky ruined book before him. His mother's handwriting had long since disappeared beneath the irreparable darkness.

Now he would never get to read what she'd written. Never be able to know what she was like, what dreams she dreamed, what wishes she wished, what goals she had. Now he would never know what she thought of his dad, what jokes he may have told her, whether he hugged her every morning, or kissed her before bed.

And now he would never know what it felt like to hear his mother writing about him, know when she first knew that she was pregnant with him, felt him kick inside of her for the first time, know what she was feeling when she gave birth to him. Or when she saw him for the first time...

And Harry knew….he would never, _ever_ forgive Hermione for this.

* * *

A week passed.

A week since Hermione ruined Harry's last chance at getting to know his parents. A week since Harry last spoke to Hermione, last looked at Hermione, last cared about Hermione. Both Ron and Harry completely ignored her, even with her many apologetic administrations.

What she had done to Harry...to Ron...was unequivocally unforgivable.

As September came to a close, Ron followed Harry and the rest of the sixth-years to the entrance hall for their next Care of Magical Creatures class, Harry taking great care to avoid Hermione.

Ron wasn't so kind.

It was with a furiously pounding heart that Ron shoved past Hermione as his long strides took him down the stairs. He knew he unbalanced her—maybe that was the plan—but he didn't care. She just made him so mad, and she invaded his every thought as it was. Ron didn't think he had ever been this enraged with her before. The fact that she'd ruin his chances like that—that she'd even blame it on _him_—that it was HER bloody boyfriend that screwed Ron over—that Hermione thought so little of Ron that he couldn't fight his own battles...and that didn't even count what she had done to Harry.

He just...he couldn't think of her anymore.

Hagrid met them at the oak front doors. Their indoor quizzes were done, and they were all rather excited to be getting a normal lesson again. But instead of leading the sixth-year N.E.W.T. students to the paddock right outside his hut, he led them to a long building behind the three greenhouses.

"We're havin' a special lesson today," Hagrid explained in his rough brogue. He was beaming from ear to ear. "In the Menagerie. Ain't none of you kids been here before. On account of the creatures in here, on'y teachers an' you N.E.W.T. levels are allowed."

None of the students had been in this building before, as it was strictly forbidden and the doors were always kept locked. As they entered, Ron could see dozens of cages on either side of them, housing auguries, ashwinders, crups, doxies, diricawls, mooncalves, mackled malaclaws—

Seamus grinned and reached into the cage of one of these, but gave a yelp as the big red claws snapped at his finger.

"This is where most of the creatures are kept that I show ter yeh kids," said Hagrid, taking them down another row of cages. "Can' very well keep 'em all in the Fores', can we?"

These ones were much bigger than the last, holding a phoenix, a bicorn, even a dozing occamy; while other paddocks were guarded by heavily locked doors. Ron swore he saw fire coming out of one.

And at the end of the very last row was a griffin.

The class breathed in awe and excitement when they saw the large creature sitting peacefully on its haunches in the corner of its stall. Harry was staring at it transfixed and even Ron, who had grown up knowing of their existence and even seen one before at the Magical Zoo in London, couldn't help but notice how shiny the long brown feathers gleamed in the dull light; how the eagle eyes, perched above the long six-inch beak, stared shrewdly at them; how the lion's paws curled cat-like under the enormous folded wings.

Hagrid began talking, telling them about where griffins usually lived, but for once Ron wasn't paying attention. He already knew everything there was to know about griffins. For years they'd always been a secret favorite of his. Those odd-looking hippogriffs in third year didn't even cut it close.

When he was eight, Dad bought him a book on griffins and for endless nights, Ron poured over it, reading by candlelight under the sheets when he was supposed to be asleep. It was the first big book his parents had ever seen him read and they praised him for it—something the twins didn't forget for a while.

But although he had seen them before, although he had read about them before, this…_this _was ten times better. He'd never been this close to one. And he'd definitely never had one stare at him like this, either…

The griffin slowly unfurled its wings and stood up. Now in the light, its feathers appeared golden, mixing in perfectly with the fur on the hind legs and rump. At its full height, the griffin's beak only came to Ron's chest, but the way it held its head up, the way it looked down its long beak at them all, proved just how majestic it was.

"Now!" finished Hagrid, rubbing his hands together. "Who wants ter pet Goldeneye firs'?"

Ron was underneath the rail and inside the paddock without even knowing he'd moved.

"Excellent!" boomed Hagrid.

"Ron!" hissed Hermione behind him. "What are you doing?"

He ignored her.

"That griffin's been staring at Ron since we came in here," Harry muttered to Neville.

"Oh, joy," said Nott. "Now we get to watch the bloody griffin eat the weasel!"

There were some titters, but Ron heard none of this. He slowly stepped towards the great griffin, his blue eyes fixed on the sharp predator's own amber ones.

"Now, remember with griffins, the trick is ter kneel in front o' them, not bow. Hippogriffs and griffins both like ter feel high an' mighty, but make sure yeh keep eye contact when yeh drop ter yer knee," said Hagrid.

The room grew very silent when Ron took his last step towards Goldeneye. For one long moment, boy and half-bird stared at each other without moving a muscle. Ron was so close he could feel the breath coming out of the creature's two nostril slits.

And then Ron lowered himself into a kneel, his left knee dropping onto the bone-strewn floor.

In that second, Ron knew why knights and kings in the olden days wore griffins on their shields and why they were forbidden to hunt the large creatures. It was said that one couldn't tell a lie in front of a griffin; their feathers today were the main ingredient in truth potions, in fact.

But it was more than that, Ron realized. It was like…like looking into their eyes, you could tell that they just _knew. _What it was that they knew, Ron had no clue, or even how they came to know it. But whatever it was, had to be so powerful that one could tell simply by looking into a griffin's eyes just how wise they really were.

How long he knelt there, Ron didn't know. Goldeneye glared down at him for several minutes, not moving. Then he cocked his head and broke the eye contact as he swiveled his head around to dig into his wing feathers as if scratching an itch.

As soon as the griffin's eyes left his, Ron blinked, dazed. He felt rather like he was coming out of a spell. Or like he drank one too many sips of his dad's Firewhisky.

Goldeneye's head came back around again, but in his beak he held a large, golden feather, and Ron knew it was for him. He reached out and took it, tentatively rubbing the griffin's beak as he did.

"You and I are best mates now, aren't we, Goldy?" Ron murmured, low enough that no one else could hear him. Ron's fingers explored the crown of Goldeneye's head, finding the nerve that made the griffin trill low in his beak, eyes closed in pleasure.

_Now to tell Harry I'm replacing him…_

All through Ron's free break, he couldn't stop thinking about his newfound friend. Even Nott, Wilkes, and the other Slytherins making kissing noises and rude comments about Ron and the griffin didn't perturb him. Malfoy, oddly enough, wasn't even with the other Slytherins...nor did he make fun. But Ron scowled at him anyway as he watched him slink away.

And as they worked on the homework assigned (two feet on how griffins have been driven almost to extinction), Ron took to it with a fervor he never directed at their classwork.

For the first time, Care of Magical Creatures had become the class that everyone looked forward to. After that lesson, Hagrid stuck to griffins for the next few weeks.

On the first Friday of October, he led Goldeneye out into the paddock beside his cottage where he had kept Buckbeak back in third year. The girls squealed in anticipation when he told them they could all ride him, and Ron alone spent twenty minutes in the sky with him before they came back to earth.

"We'll be doin' runespoor nex'," said Hagrid loudly as the class ended. "But nearin' November I've got a real surprise for yeh! Eh, eh, not tellin' yeh now, Patil, so yeh'll jus' have ter wait. But I'm gonna say this—yer gonna be all fired up once yeh see it!"

He chuckled at his joke as Ron and Harry hung back to talk to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw Hermione hesitate as the rest of the class headed back up the rocky hill.

He knew she wanted to listen in to the conversation, and he knew she wanted to talk to Hagrid as much as he and Harry did. But he also did not want to care.

_Maybe now she's learning her lesson on what being a good friend is like. _

For a split second he saw her vulnerability as she bit her lip and watched him apprehensively. And in that second, he saw in her eyes just how much she missed him.

Ron allowed himself to feel concern for her in that one second.

But Harry was not so obliged. _She _was to blame for everything that was wrong. And it was with this that Harry sent Hermione a look so poisonously construed that it could have stopped Nagini herself and turned her into stone.

Hermione's face crumpled, and she turned around and trekked up the long, winding, boulder-strewn path by herself.

Ron shoved the guilt away faster than it came, and turned back to Harry and Hagrid's conversation.

"So," he interrupted, forcing a grin from ear to ear. "Fired up, eh? Does Dumbledore know you'll be showing us a dragon, then?"

Hagrid hastily shushed him. "Don't go sayin' it aloud! Yeh'll ruin the surprise! And how'd yeh know abou' tha' anyway?"

"We guessed," said Harry simply. "So it's true then?"

"Yeh three are smarter'n yer own good," Hagrid grumbled. "Speakin' of, where's Hermione?"

"Er..." Harry glanced at Ron.

"Oh, don' tell me yer arguin' with her again. Some silly squabble abou' pets innit?" said Hagrid sternly.

"No!" said Ron and Harry, affronted. They interrupted each other in their haste to list her offenses.

"She hexed McLaggen because she thought I was going to lose—"

"—she completely _ruined_ my mother's diary! I never even got the chance to read it—"

"—she nearly kicked me off the team—"

"—not to mention she keeps accusing Jones of stuff—"

"—she never keeps her stuck-up nose in her own business—"

"—three feet of essay in Transfiguration that I'll never get back—"

"—she always thinks she's so bloody right all the time—"

"—_three feet_—"

"—and she's just so bloody _infuriating_—!"

"ALL RIGH'!" Hagrid shouted over the din. "Merlin, forget I asked. Yeh both're actin' like a pair of scorned Veelas…"

"Well, why don't you try putting up with her…" Ron muttered. "She'd prolly lose you your job just like she lost me me spot on the Quidditch team. I almost didn't get it back!"

"Ah, I heard abou' tha'," said Hagrid. "If I were you, I'd be grateful. She cares enough abou' her friends to get in trouble like tha' for 'em. Yer lucky to have her, is what."

"But she hexed McLaggen—"

"An' almost got expelled for it, I heard. Tha's friendship for yeh, riskin' expulsion to protect one she loves."

It was Harry's turn to accuse.

"But she ruined my mother's book—"

Hagrid wasn't one to be without advice. "Aye, truly I am sorry abou' that. I reckon she is too. People make mistakes. Forgive an' forget, tha's wha' I always say..."

"But she thinks—"

"Wha' she thinks shouldn' matter, should it? If yeh two hadn't noticed, we're in the middle of a war! This ain't no time to be fightin' over who hurt who an' who did wha'. With them bloody dementors let loose, and You-Know-Who's army buildin' up, I'd think friendship's more impor'ant than all tha'. After all, yeh never know if summat migh' happen," Hagrid grumbled. "Did yeh two forget already abou' tha' Death Eater chasin' yeh and cursin' her?"

"No….but…."

"No need teh argue with me! I've said my piece. Now yeh two need to be gettin' to yer nex' class, I'll not be holdin' yeh up. Jus' remember what I said. She's a keeper, tha' one. You'd best not be lettin' her get away," said Hagrid, signaling the end of the discussion.

* * *

Hermione wiped her eye angrily as she made her way up the steep, rocky path that led from Hagrid's cabin to the castle. She had hung back after class, wanting to talk to Hagrid with the boys as well, but Harry shot her one withering glare stating that she wasn't wanted.

She knew she made a mistake—she knew she hurt his feelings—she understood why he was feeling this way… but she just couldn't handle him and Ron being livid with her any more. Every look Harry sent her cut her to the bone. Every time Ron spoke was like a knife in the heart.

_Have I always felt this way? Or is it just since…_

The image of Ron waiting on her, almost hand and foot, when she was in the hospital wing after the attack on the Hogwarts Express when she woke up with bloody eyes was melted permanently into her mind. He'd been so kind and sweet and thoughtful then. She wanted _that _Ron. Not this one that was...almost another being. This one just thought she was the scum of the earth, the most horrible person on the planet…

_The Mudblood Queen of the wizarding world. _

More tears stung her cheeks but she didn't bother wiping them away, the revolting feel of that word still echoing in her mind.

Their voices grew farther away as she trudged up the steep, boulder-ridden hill. The rest of her classmates were long gone, having run back up to the castle because of the coming rain. Above her, the sky was darkening, threatening to spill at any second.

_It looks like we'll be getting yet another downpour…._

She had just rounded the last boulder on the top of the hill when she stopped, tense—

Someone grabbed her hair and yanked her back, _hard—_

All at once, her back was slammed into the boulder. Hermione opened her mouth to scream, but another hand clamped over it.

"Make one move, Mudblood..." whispered a voice menacingly into her ear, "And I will stick this wand so far inside of you that you will beg for death."

She struggled, but the boy was too strong and held her fast. She tried to hit him, but he just held her arms against the rock with one arm. She tried to kick him, but he was pressed so close to her body that she couldn't move. Her bag fell to the ground amidst her efforts and rolled down the path she had just climbed, her books tumbling out as it went.

Panic. Panic and fear, panic and fear...

"Get her wand—!"

It wasn't until she heard this last that it occurred to Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, that she even had a wand. She dropped it before a blond sixth-year called Wilkes could wrestle it from her. It rolled away from them and down the path, following her books.

_Better left behind as a bread crumb than in the hands of that slimy snake._

There was another voice in front of her, and she realized with dread that she and her captor weren't alone.

The guy holding her gripped her body, dragging her around so she could see around the boulder, his one hand covering her mouth and his other arm wrapped tight around her waist, pinning her arms there.

Then she saw Theodore Nott was moving towards her, a smile growing on his pallid face.

"Hello, Granger," he said, tossing his wand up into the air and catching it before pointing it at her. "Just the witch we wanted to see."

Hermione couldn't think. As if from a murky substance, she saw words that seemed to be her thoughts.

She silently muttered a string of curses in her head that Ron would have been proud of.

_Not good. Not good, not good, not good. I'm alone with the Slytherins. I don't have a wand. Ron and Harry aren't here. I'm missing my Ancient Runes class, and now I'm going to flunk it, and I'm going to be expelled, and I wanna go _home.

Her panicking ended in a whine, and she would have thought it funny if it weren't for the wand trained at her.

"You don't act so high and mighty now that you're wandless and bookless, do you?" sneered the one holding her. "You're the Perfect Prefect no longer. You deserve to be taken down a peg or two. No teachers to impress now, just us nasty Slytherins..."

He was right. Not only did she see Theodore Nott, but to his right was Earl Wilkes, one of the boys Ron said attacked him on the train. To his left, of course, she could see none other than the white-blond hair of Draco Malfoy. He was standing with his back to them, however, leaning against another boulder sullenly.

And pressed against her, still holding his disgusting hand to her mouth, was—

"Urquehart, let her speak," Nott commanded, and looked thoroughly pleased when his fellow Slytherin did as he told.

The minute his grimy fingers left her mouth, Hermione opened it to scream again, but Urquehart's hand moved into a chokehold.

"Don't even think about it," hissed Wilkes, coming closer. "But then again...why don't you? That would only make them come faster, and that's what we really want after all. You're only the bait."

It didn't take a genius to figure out he was talking about Harry and Ron, and this knowledge quickly wiped any fear out of her mind, replacing it with anger.

"_This_ is your ingenious plan to get them to come to you?" she asked in derision, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "What, did they run out of brains at St. Mungo's when you were born? They aren't going to come for me. Haven't you heard the gossip spreading around the school? I pissed them both off. They couldn't give a pureblood's arse about me."

_Not smart...not smart, not smart...why are you baiting them? And where are these curse words coming from?_

Nott gave a little growl.

_Great, that was real witty of you, insulting the one who's got his wand trained on you. I have an idea...why don't we just ignore them? That will solve everything. Ignore them, don't talk, and Harry and Ron will come and save you once they're done talking with Hagrid, so...just ignore them._

_Ignore them, ignore them, ignore them..._

Hermione wondered briefly if she sounded this annoying to the boys every time she kept up her mantra in the past when the Slytherins insulted them.

"_He's_ the one with the score to settle," Nott said, jerking his head back at Malfoy, who still didn't move. "I'm just the...instigator, if you will."

His last sentence would have made him sound more mature if he hadn't been smirking when he said it, she noted. But she disdained to converse with him—she knew who the real instigator was.

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Not your usual crowd, is it? Why'd you replace your two henchmen?" she asked, her voice getting stronger, and her words sounding rather similar to Ron's.

_Similar to Ron? Of all people, you're following _his _example in arguments? Quit baiting them, and take your own advice for once!_

Baiting them seemed to be working, however, for after her remark Malfoy finally turned around. "Shut up, Granger! You don't know what you're talking about."

He walked over to them. But instead of heading towards Hermione, he stopped beside Nott. Malfoy's face turned away from Hermione, but she still heard every word he said.

"Don't screw this up, Nott," Malfoy hissed. "The Dark Lord wants Granger _and _Weasley!"

Hermione's heart froze in fear.


	18. What the Dark Lord Wants

**WHAT THE DARK LORD WANTS**

Hermione was stunned at his words.

The...The Dark Lord...

The Dark Lord...wants…

_What?_

She renewed her struggling with earnest.

"Nott, we can get them another way," Malfoy hissed. "It was a pointless idea doing it like this. Not only are we within full view of Gryffindor Tower where anyone could see us, but Potter and Weasel could go on a different path, or they could stay at the oaf's cabin for hours, _or_ a teacher could come along at any minute. Add to that, you were stupid enough to let her bag out of your sight—now someone's going to see the books strewn everywhere and know something's up!"

"Right, because a teacher is the worst of your troubles, isn't it, Malfoy? Or is the Dark Lord? Your fool of a father screwed up pretty bad in June, didn't he? I bet the Dark Lord's just itching to get his wand trained on him. What good would your name be to the purebloods, then? You'd be worse off than _her," _said Nott furiously, jerking his head at Hermione.

She stopped struggling to listen better to Malfoy's reply.

"You don't think I know what's going on?" said Malfoy in a dangerously low voice. "My family's closer to the Dark Lord than yours will ever be, Nott_. _If he does anything to us, it won't be near as bad as what he'd do to your family once your father messes up. You're _nothing_ to him, and he knows it."

Hermione stared at Malfoy, remembering what he had said to Harry on the train.

"_...You haven't had to fight off the Imperius every night of your childhood. You've never even been inside of a Death Eater's house, let alone had to live alongside the Dark Arts every day. You've seen the Dark Lord once every year—so what? I've lived with him! You think you know everything just because he's tried to kill you once or twice… But you haven't seen half the stuff I have, or heard half the things I've heard, and if you knew so much as an ounce of what I know..."_

And then she realized it. _He's scared_. _He's completely frightened about what will happen. If his father makes another mistake, Voldemort will probably kill Lucius,_ and _Narcissa,_ and _Draco..._

She suddenly noticed how pale Malfoy looked—he was much whiter than she'd ever seen him. There were faint shadows under his eyes, possibly darker ones that were covered with a Glamour Charm. And there was something about his eyes. They looked lighter, more gaunt, like he lay awake every single night since June, worried about what was going to happen.

And not for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger felt sorry for Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Ron and Harry were arguing about the upcoming Quidditch match as they came up the path, when Ron noticed an empty bag and a bunch of books spread across the way.

"Hey, these're Hermione's," said Ron, picking some up.

"So?" grunted Harry. He didn't stop.

Ron glared over at him, then something inside him snapped. "Hagrid's right, you prat. This isn't like before. We're in the middle of a war, can't you just grow up?"

Harry blinked.

"And since when does Hermione just leave her books in the mud anyway? Could you just stop blaming her for one second and help me pick them up?" snapped Ron. "She wouldn't want them...you know...muddy."

He was beyond annoyed at Hermione for her treatment of him and Harry. But beyond the annoyance was a growing feeling of dread.

Harry sighed irritably. "Fine then. How in Merlin's name d'you know they're her books anyhow? Have them memorized, do you?"

"_No_, Harry." Ron held them up. "Who else would be daft enough to take N.E.W.T. Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, _and _Potions?"

Harry snorted, then furrowed his brow. "But why would she leave them on the…?"

He trailed off suddenly and picked up Hermione's wand off the ground.

They looked at each other and the full implications of what was going on hit them. Fear had barely enough time to settle in Ron's heart as they dropped the books and sprinted up the path, heading towards the sounds of a scuffle—

He didn't know what he expected to see when they rounded the last bend, but Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott pointing their wands at each other certainly wasn't it.

"_Ron_! Ha—!" Hermione started, but her mouth was quickly covered by the Slytherin holding her.

Ron's and Harry's wands were out before they knew what was happening.

Malfoy heard Hermione's shout and turned towards them. Nott threw a curse at Malfoy once he had his back turned, and Harry, thinking that Nott was cursing them, shouted a hex not a moment after. Malfoy dropped to the ground in record time as the spells ricocheted off each other.

And headed straight towards Ron.

He barely had time to duck.

* * *

The next ten minutes were a blur to Hermione.

Spells were being shouted back and forth, and Harry and Ron didn't even notice in the confusion that not all the Slytherins' spells were going to them. They both hated Malfoy so much that it didn't even occur to them that the Slytherin's own house would hate him almost as much.

Hermione, meanwhile, was being used as a corporeal Shield Charm as Urquehart cowered behind her, peeking out every so often to shoot a spell in Harry and Ron's direction. The boys knew better than to throw a curse his way, however, and focused their attention on the other three Slytherins. All she could do, then, was watch and, although not eager to join in the battle considering what happened last time she had thrown a hex, wish that she had her wand on her.

_Wand? _said that voice in her head again. _You were raised by Muggles, weren't you? They don't have wands to defend themselves. They use good, old-fashioned common self-defense. You don't _need _a wand...you just _want _one._

It was then that she remembered something her father taught her a few years ago—how to get out of a captor's hold in sticky situations. The current situation couldn't have been stickier.

"Ohhh, I hope this works!" she moaned.

Then with tightly-closed eyes and a grimace, she slammed her head back into the Slytherin's with as much force as she could muster. He swore loudly. Blinking stars away, and using his momentary dizziness to her advantage, she brought her elbow down _hard_ right into his—

—his yelp of pain brought a momentary end to the dueling as Harry, Ron, Malfoy, Nott, and Wilkes all swiveled around. In the guffawing that followed, none of them noticed Professor McGonagall striding towards them until it was too late.

As it was, things could have turned out a lot worse.

After McGonagall had shouted herself hoarse (words like "I've _never—"_ and "—in _all_ my career—" could be heard several times in her speech), she took thirty-five points off each of them for their "abysmally stunning disregard for the rules".

"But they had _Hermione_—" Ron roared.

"—_and _they shot at us first," finished Harry.

"Liars," muttered Nott.

Since Hermione had been without a wand during the duel, and thus unable to partake of the chaotic spell-shooting, she got off scot-free. Harry and Ron couldn't begrudge her this, since this also meant Gryffindor lost only seventy points, while Slytherin was taken down one hundred forty. As well, all six boys were facing detention for weeks to come. Nott, Wilkes, and Urquehart would be with Professor Snape, and Malfoy curled his lip in disgust when he heard he was to do his with Professor Lupin. Harry and Ron were pleased to find they'd be doing theirs with Professor Jones.

But nothing was better than having Ron and Harry speak to her again.

As soon as they were shot of McGonagall, he asked where she had learned to do the "head-butting and elbow jabby thing".

There was no need to apologize or hug awkwardly. Instead, they just jumped right into conversation, their quarrel forgotten between them, and neither noticing Harry's smirk.

And in all her euphoria about having Ron speak to her again, Hermione rather forgot to tell them about what Malfoy had said.

* * *

If Harry and Ron thought Professor Jones would go easy on them, they were dead wrong. Her silence was stony as they served their detention with her (scrubbing the scorch marks off the walls of the Defense classroom). And in their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson in October she strode into the room, tight-lipped with fury.

The class grew quiet. She sighed and started pacing in front of the room.

"As students in Hogwarts, your teachers can only protect you from so much," she said finally after a minute of silence. "But we can _not_ protect you from each other."

Alarmed, each of the students looked around doggedly.

"As you well know, a fight erupted on Hogwarts grounds the other day," she said, turning to face them. "A _fight_. Between one House and another. Can anyone tell me what is wrong with that picture in light of what we are facing today?"

No one moved.

"The other week, I was alerted that there were three students who had been attacked on the train, before the Death Eater attack had even happened," she continued. "It was also drawn to my attention that several members of one of your Houses ambushed another student on the train with the intent of harming him…simply because he belonged to a different House."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and several of the D.A. members looked at each other. Malfoy stiffened and he glowered at their teacher, as if daring her to name him as one who was attacked. Ron, as well, turned faintly red and squared his shoulders.

She continued, "Whether they were provoked or not, it doesn't matter; whether they started the fight or not, it still doesn't matter. What _matters_ is that there are among you several who would wish to harm you to the point of drawing their wands and taking the power of your life into their hands. Does anyone see something wrong with that?"

Nearly all of their hands went up, although a few Slytherins in the back, Harry saw, did not move a muscle.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't suppose you would take kindly to being forced to do something by someone you don't trust simply because they flicked their wand?" she asked.

Malfoy shook his head sullenly.

"And Mr. Potter, if someone tried to make you do something that went against your character, what would you do?"

"Er…I'd defend myself," said Harry.

"Precisely," said Professor Jones. "You would defend yourself. And you will be _taught_ to defend yourself. As wrong as it is to attack others, as wrong as it is to make someone do something regardless of their will, as wrong as it is to commit a crime out of hate or revenge...it is _not _wrong to protect yourself. I am furious that these fights and attacks were started, and that some among you feel the need to harm others because they are different than you. But I am _proud_ of the ones who can defend themselves, because they are the ones who will be left standing when this war is over with.

"Now," she continued, rubbing her hands together. "You all know the importance of defensive spells, as you were taught last year. But in a fight, you cannot only use defensive spells. Why is that, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron looked up, startled. "Well…because then, you'd…er…be fighting against yourself, wouldn't you? I mean, if no one's trying to attack you, and…well…you're trying to defend yourself…then the only offender would be…well, you."

She raised a brow. "Very good. Five points to Gryffindor. He is exactly right, class. Repeat after me—_the best defense is a good offense_."

A hand raised after this was said and scribbled down in their notes.

"Yes, Miss Brown?"

"But...I thought offense was always a bad thing?" said Lavender. "It's never good to point your wand at someone and make them do something, isn't that what you said? So how can it be good sometimes but not others?"

Jones looked around the room. "Well? Is there anyone who'd like to answer that question?"

Surprisingly, it was Malfoy who spoke. "Success in battle always rests on diminishing your adversary's best weapon—leaving them weak, defenseless, and without means of an attack against you," he said, almost bored. "You can't do that if all you're doing is setting up a Shield Charm around yourself."

"Five points to Slytherin for your insight," Jones appraised. "Does that answer your question, Miss Brown? To unwand an opponent—or to strike them so they cannot move to attack you again—usually requires the deficit for a counter-offensive. Now. This year after we've covered the sufficient defensive stances, I will be teaching you how to fight offensively. _Not_ to use against other students. _Not_ to use against your friends. _Not_ to use, especially, against your teachers—"

There was a slight chuckle at this.

"But for you to be prepared. If the situation were ever to arise when your family or your friends are in danger of being killed and it is up to _you _to stop their attackers—would you do it? _Could_ you do it? Fight off a Death Eater twice your age with twice the knowledge and experience…could you win? Because if you were to lose…believe me, it wouldn't be a twenty-point loss for your House. It would be your life. Your life and the lives of your friends and family who are depending on you.

"_This," _she stated, looking around at them all, "is why you are taught Defense Against the Dark Arts."

* * *

Professor Jones' pronouncement stuck with Harry for the rest of that week. He hardly heard the conversation at dinner when he got another summons from the Headmaster about an Occlumency lesson that night ("Why tonight and not Sunday?" asked Ron, but Harry just shrugged), and when Ron asked if Harry wanted to go to the Quidditch field before the lesson, since it was a Friday night, Harry just shook his head and went for a walk.

How long he had walked, he had no clue. When he found himself on the top of the Astronomy Tower, he realized by the innumerable stars out that it was quite late and he still had another Occlumency meeting with Dumbledore to get to. Wishing he had his Cloak with him, he turned around and hurried back down the tower.

Harry had just reached the foot of the tower stairs when he heard voices.

He slowed down and peered around the corner. Professors Snape and Jones were standing three feet apart, eyes fixated on each other, faces contorted into scowls.

"Do not tell me how to teach my students, Severus," Jones was saying. "Learning offensive and defensive spells for the first time is detrimental to the students doing it non-verbally because it can severely be messed up! Do you want them to fail?"

"If they weren't such dunderheads, you wouldn't have a problem. I distinctly remember learning offensive spells without the handicap you're giving them. If you didn't constantly baby them with every step, they might actually learn something!" said Snape.

"_Learn_ something?" she said, voice getting dangerously low. "Because you did not just have only three students graduate last year with an 'Outstanding', as Minerva so kindly pointed out to me. I've already told you, I will teach them how to do it non-verbally once they've mastered it verbally. Albus and Remus have both agreed this is the best solution—"

"And receiving the advice from a werewolf weighs better on your conscience than receiving it from me?" he sneered. "Perhaps you should rethink your teaching skills, if that is the case—"

"And what do you think you could teach me about Defense Against the Dark Arts that I don't know already? In case you've forgotten, Severus, I was actually fighting against them during the last war, not fighting _for_ them. I wish I could say the same about you!" she said haughtily, then turned on her heel and left.

Harry pulled his head back in, and tried to make himself scarce, but Snape spotted him first.

"Potter!" he barked. "Having a little midnight eavesdrop, are we?"

"I was just going to Dumbledore's office—"

"I can tell you now it's a waste of _Professor _Dumbledore's time. You're too foolish and arrogant to be taught anything."

Heat rose to Harry's face, but he bit back a retort. "Look, I have a slip of permission to be out, so if you—"

"Permission? I have no doubt, as the Headmaster seems very keen on giving you anything you want. You will excuse me for not falling in so easily to your snares..."

"I'm NOT ensnaring anyone!" Harry finally shouted.

"Detention," said Snape silkily, "For yelling at a teacher. See me next Sunday at nine. You are dismissed."

Harry stood there, silently fuming, long after Snape had left before stomping up to the tower. At the rate he was going, he was going to have detentions every day from now until the end of the year.

* * *

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"I…"

For probably the first time in her life, Hermione was at a loss for words.

"Nevermind," she quietly murmured, giving up. Going back to the scrolls in front of her, Hermione continued her Ancient Runes homework.

They both sat by the fire in the common room doing their homework quietly. They were both waiting up for Harry to come back from his lesson with Professor Dumbledore. But things had never been more awkward.

She felt Ron's gaze on her, but did not meet his eyes. Things were quite...subdued...between them, as of late. Like...they weren't quite sure how to talk to each other. Like something had changed between the two of them.

Only...neither of them had any idea what.

Her quill paused in its scratching, as she debated telling him again. Then, thinking better of it yet again, she went back to finishing her sentence.

A minute later, and Hermione stopped writing. He really did need to know. Now was a better time than most. They didn't have Harry with them, and everyone else in the common room had already gone to bed. He wasn't mad at her, she wasn't mad at him. They weren't currently talking about anything else...they were both just quietly doing their homework.

She should tell him.

_I should tell him, I should tell him, I should tell him._

"All right, I'm listening."

Hermioned's head jerked up. Ron had put down his homework and slid on the floor next to her. He was giving her his full attention, eye contact, and everything. Did she mutter her thoughts aloud?

"What do you…"

"Please, Hermione, I've known you for six years now. I know when you have something you need to say. You stop concentrating on your work, for one. You bite your lip for another, as if stopping yourself from speaking. And I could tell you keep looking at me when you think I'm not paying attention. You're making me think I have dirt on my nose again…" said Ron ruefully.

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at the reminder to their first meeting so many years ago.

And looking up at him, Hermione wondered about how close he was to her, how handsome he was, how warm and soft his features were in the firelight. It danced across the side of his face, while the other side was tinged much darker in the shade. But as red as his hair was, falling into his eyes as it usually did, and as red as the fire's glow was, it did nothing but bring out the blue in his eyes even more.

Which were staring at her with such ferocious intensity that she blushed and wondered what he would do...say...feel...if she just kissed him right now.

Suddenly she was all too aware of every movement his body made. Every breath she took, every raised hair on her arms, every exhale she made, and should she move closer...

He fidgeted, drawing closer to her as well, as if he could sense the electrifying thoughts emitting from her.

Did he want to kiss her too?

_Hermione._

_Get a grip...please…_

She shook her head at her thoughts, not wanting to listen. Not wanting to admit the truth. She just wanted to be lost in this blissful state of electrifying emotions with Ron forever. Wanting to kiss him, but wanting him to make the first move. Only caring about whether he fancied her or not.

Because the reality was, there were far more important things than their love life.

_Kissing him...telling him your feelings...they aren't important anymore. Not nearly as important as…_

_Voldemort. _

The smile died on her face when she remembered what she had to tell him.

And it was with this pronouncement that she had to make that Hermione decided then and there never to bring up her thoughts on Professor Jones being untrustworthy again. Never to tarnish her friendship with Ron, for fear of him and Harry blowing up at her again. They meant far more to her than she could ever realize, and she just couldn't take it if Voldemort succeeded.

If Voldemort took Ron.

"You're right, I've been wondering if now...is the best time...to tell you something...something I...something I heard…" she stumbled out, eyes fixated on her fingers.

She didn't look up at his face, but his body grew still as he watched her. At her avoidance of his eyes. At her fixation on fingering her quill. At her flushed face. At Hermione Jean Granger, greatest wordsmith at Hogwarts, stumbling over her words.

"Well," Ron said, drawing out the word. "I can tell it's not going to be very pleasant. Might as well just spit it out then, and get it over with."

"When the Slytherins had me...before you and Harry got there…."

She measured each word carefully before it left her mouth, still unsure of the wording. Obviously, if she said it too callously, then Ron would act callous about it. But if she treated it like a bigger deal than it probably was, Ron might have a hard time with it….after all, it was about him….

And then, in a rather un-Hermione-like way, she just spilled it out, unmeasured, uncut, blurting out words and sentences and they fell unbidden before her.

And that was how Ron found out that Voldemort was after them.

* * *

Harry's bad mood soured and hung with him throughout his Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore. He didn't know how much until—

"Harry, concentrate," said Dumbledore. "_Legilimens!"_

At once, Harry enforced the barriers around his mind. Dumbledore's probing thoughts jabbed into his walls, but Harry didn't flinch. He knew that the Headmaster had not been holding back at all during their lessons—Voldemort, after all, attacked his opponents' and servants' minds like Hermione attacked books. Harry was quite accustomed to not expecting a polite knocking on Dumbledore's end.

Eyes shut tight, Harry waited for Dumbledore to attack harder, but he said instead, "Harry...I am finished..."

Harry opened his eyes. "But...sir...I hardly felt you. Don't you think you should try harder?"

"You do not understand, Harry. I did everything in my power to enter your mind," said Dumbledore. He sunk into his chair again, shoulders sagging, breathing hard, and holding a stitch in his side. But he was beaming. "I have taught you well. There were no windows, no openings, your walls were tightly sealed, you have layered brick upon brick to strengthen your barrier. All I could see was a wall of bricks not unlike Platform 9 ¾. I simply could not enter...and I am very proud of you in your accomplishment."

"So...really? I—I'm done?" said Harry.

"Yes. You are now an accomplished Occlumens."

Harry found himself grinning. For the first time that week, he'd finally done something right.

With a buoyancy in his step and a whistle on his lips, Harry let himself into the Common Room that night to see that Ron and Hermione had waited up for him.

They both faced the fireplace sitting in their customary seats. But while Hermione was perched on the edge of the couch with her head in her hands, Ron was standing and leaning against the edge of the mantle, staring into the fire moodily.

The whistle died on Harry's lips when he saw the grave looks on their faces.

"What is it?" he asked them as he neared the fire.

There were only a few other stragglers in the room catching up on homework before they retired to bed. Ron and Hermione both avoided his eyes.

Harry feared the worst. "Who died?"

"No one," Hermione answered quickly. "It's just...Harry, I...I overheard something. When Nott and the rest of them grabbed me…"

She went in depth into everything she had heard Nott and Malfoy say to each other, postulating her own theories onto their actions.

But then she said something that made his blood freeze in his body, made his movements slow and sluggish, made his lungs stop working and suspend in animation.

"Harry...he said Voldemort..._wants_...me. Me and...and Ron."

Harry ripped his eyes from her and looked at Ron. Ron didn't look up from his shoelaces, oddly fixated on them.

"It makes sense," Ron grunted. "Probably just wants us so he can get to you. You're too well-protected, obviously. So I guess he figures if he can get us, you'd go off gallivanting again just like you did when you thought he had Sirius. Perfect way to lure you out of the castle, isn't it?"

A daunting quiet fell over them.

"Harry...if anything happens to us...you can't—"

"I would," Harry finally spoke, his words wooden in his mouth. "He knows it."

"Harry, you _can't_—"

"If Voldemort took you, Hermione, we couldn't _not_ go after you," Ron said loudly. "There's no one who could stop us. We won't lose you."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, and in that moment Harry was incredibly grateful for his best friend. Ron understood. He knew. He felt the same way.

Ron abruptly started pacing. "This all makes sense, you know. This is why the Slytherins grabbed me and wouldn't let me go during the train ride. Probably trying to hold onto me till the Death Eaters got there. This is why the Death Eaters went after us during the attack on the train. And that one...the one that tortured us...he wasn't trying to kill us. Granted he took a hell of a lot of satisfaction inflicting pain, but…"

"But until you came to save us, Harry… who knows what he was planning?" Hermione finished softly. "They could have planned that attack on the train trying to get us, and as soon as we left the train they hunted us down. That Death Eater...he had Ron and me. He could have taken us then and there if...if you hadn't stopped him…"

"That...that whole...Death Eater attack...was...was for _you_?" Harry whispered mutely.

All of a sudden, he couldn't breathe.

He walked to the window, his back to his friends, taking deep breaths before the tears boiling up inside him threatened to spill out. He didn't want them to notice—didn't want them to see—

"So what, were Malfoy, Nott, and them just trying to do their dads' dirty deeds the other day? When they grabbed Hermione?" Ron continued savagely.

"Actually, Malfoy didn't seem all that interested in what Nott was planning," Hermione broke in, matter-of-factly. "In fact, he didn't approve. It was almost as if he...he didn't want it to happen…"

"Oh, don't you defend him!" Ron roared suddenly. "He doesn't deserve your pity, Hermione!"

The last of the stragglers squeaked in alarm and took off up the stairs.

Ron seemed to realize his anger was getting the better of him and ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm down. He continued in anguish, "What about my family? What about Ginny? Is it just Hermione and me Voldemort wants, then? Or is it everyone you've ever been close to, Harry? Neville? Luna?"

Harry's eyes shut in pain. _Everyone…_

He turned around and faced them. His voice came out with way more confidence than he felt. But Ron and Hermione sat up straighter for it.

"We need to tell Dumbledore. We need to get your families to safety. We need to take more measures that both of you are safe. We need to find out what Voldemort's planning. We need to know...we have to find out...what the Dark Lord wants."

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**So now they know! What do you think they will do with this information? When will they tell Dumbledore? What would you like to see happen? I can always add more scenes to the chapters I've written before updating if you'd like to see more of a certain character, find out what's going on behind the scenes, want someone's point of view for what's already happened, etc. **

**Please let me know! **

**The more reviews I get, the faster I can update! **


	19. His Furry Little Problem

**HIS FURRY LITTLE PROBLEM**

Harry lay in bed late the next morning as Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Ron moved around getting changed.

His, Ron's, and Hermione's conversation from last night seared into his brain. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Voldemort targeting him was one thing. But his two best friends...their families...

"Which classes do we have today?" he moaned.

"None," said Ron. "It's Saturday. First Hogsmeade weekend, remember? Jones'll be along to collect us after breakfast."

Harry stayed in bed, trying to wake up. Hogsmeade...was that wise? Ron and Hermione out of the castle's protection? What if the Slytherins tried to grab them again? What if Voldemort sent Death Eaters after them again? What if—

Ron roared with laughter at something Seamus was showing him.

Harry at once felt a pang of guilt. He couldn't be the one to tell on his best friends. What if...what if he just told Dumbledore when they got back from Hogsmeade? If Harry told the professors now, there is no way Ron or Hermione would be permitted to go.

Ron and Hermione deserved a day of fun before being locked up.

_But you told Ron and Hermione last night that you would tell Dumbledore as soon as possible. That would be today at breakfast. _

Harry weighed the two choices in his mind.

It was very possible that nothing would happen today anyway. Or that they stayed at the castle while everyone else went to Hogsmeade, and Slytherins got after them there. Them being with Harry and their Defense teacher, and let's not forget the Dean of Hogwarts, was a far safer bet.

Besides. They had the D.A. who were told to be on the lookout. Everything was going to be fine.

The D.A. was moving forwards quite admirably. The older students were now being trained to fight in combat—duels were held regularly between Moony and Harry so they could teach how to block, how to attack, how to think under pressure, how to aim while running. Their lessons became a favorite of all the students attending—it quickly rose in popularity and Harry's classmates were soon rivaling it to Quidditch.

As Jones had said, Defense Against the Dark Arts was moving along fairly well too. They all soon fell into the habit that it had become.

For two hours on Monday, they learned things by-the-book. Mostly it was a history of Voldemort's past; they had covered his time at Hogwarts (the class was particularly stunned to learn about Tom Riddle setting the snake on the Muggle-borns), and were going to be going over his time at Borgin and Burkes—and Voldemort cursing the Defense Against the Dark Arts position—within the month of October.

On Thursdays, however, they put their books away and had a practical lesson. These two hours were usually spent learning defensive spells and tactics—Harry in particular had become the best at casting the Defensive Charge.

"Everything I am teaching you now is what you should have learned last year," Jones had said at the start of term. "If we keep hard at it, you should have this all finished sometime after Halloween. If you haven't joined the D.A. yet, I highly suggest you do—they're covering more than half of this stuff, so I can proceed in teaching you offensive tactics."

Harry stared up at his maroon canopy, his stomach finally settling.

They were planning on spending most of the day at the Shrieking Shack with Moony. With Jones escorting them there, and Aurors there as well, plus Moony with them, Ron and Hermione would be all right…

Wouldn't they?

"Oh, c'mon, Harry," said Ron, snatching the blanket off Harry's bed. "There must be _someone _you want to get out of bed for."

Harry sighed, tried rather hard not to think of Ginny, and finally got up.

They met Hermione in the common room. She looked rather pink as she wrestled Crookshanks in her arms. Neville reached up to scratch the cat under the chin from his position on the armchair.

"Oh, stop it, you," she muttered.

Neville blinked. "I'm going to assume you're talking to your cat," he said hesitantly, but backed away from her anyway.

"You're not taking that thing, are you?" said Ron, narrowing his eyes at the sulking Crookshanks.

"Of course I am. He needs a new collar—he's completely chewed the other one off—and Balderdash's Bestiary has just come out with a new magical collar that is charmed to tell you where your pet is at all times. I thought that would be rather handy, as Hogwarts is so big. But in order for it to work, I need to bring him with so he can be fitted for it," she explained to them.

"Oh, you're going to the Bestiary too?" said Ginny, joining them. "I was hoping to buy a pet with my birthday money. Hopefully a cat or mouse, as Ron already has an owl, and I really can borrow Pig any time. D'you mind if we meet Luna there?"

Harry glanced at her, then found he couldn't look away. Ginny looked rather pretty in the dark green jacket that off-set her red hair, with her blue jeans and a violet blouse to match.

"What're you staring at?" said Ginny bluntly at Harry.

"You—er—look nice, is all," he said, blushing.

"So?" said Ron, suspicious. "Hermione looks nice too, and I don't see you drooling over her."

Hermione did look nice, Harry saw. Her hair was more slicked down than usual, and her white blouse and brown corduroy skirt made her look rather bookish, but in a good way.

Hermione's cheeks grew faintly pink. "Why, thank you, Ron."

"Just sayin'," Ron said to his shoes. "Better than the other day, anyhow."

Neville raised his eyebrows. Hermione's smile vanished. Just then, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil started giggling.

"How do you like _my _ensemble, Ron?" said Lavender, fluttering her eyelashes at him. She twirled around, showing off her coral pink dress and jean jacket.

"Er..." he said, taken aback. "It's okay..."

They giggled again and left.

"So!" said Ginny sarcastically into the silence. "Now that we've established our fashion sense is top-notch, can we be going?"

That suited them much better than standing there in awkwardness, and they headed towards the entrance hole.

"You coming, Nev?" said Harry.

Neville started. "Sure," he said, following them out the door.

When the five of them entered the Great Hall for breakfast, they saw quite the crowd around the Gryffindor table. And for some reason, Fred and George Weasley could be found in the middle of it.

"Why're you two here _again_?" moaned Ron, plopping down next to them. "We were going to come down to Hogsmeade and see you today anyway. Can't get enough of Hogwarts, can you?"

"Pleasure to see you, too, little bro," said Fred. "Your smiling countenance upon greeting us is simply overwhelming."

"Fancy meeting you here, Harry," said George. "Word in the Daily Prophet is that you're off gallivanting with Dumbledore. Tracy Beatlemeyer, aged forty-seven, saw you just three hours ago in Penzance, having a spot of tea with the Headmaster just outside her window. However did you get up here so fast?"

"Students aren't allowed to use the Floo here, you know," said Fred. "Forbidden, it is. And Firebolts are fast, but news travels faster—"

"And Apparition is far out," said George. "Which leaves—why, Fred! We must have an Animagus on our hands!"

Fred threw his arm around Harry. "Beetle or billywig?" he said seriously.

"Ha, ha," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

Harry, however, wasn't paying any attention. He saw Dumbledore seated at the head table for breakfast, and he wondered again if he should tell him right now.

Ron saw him staring. "You telling him after breakfast?" he muttered so his siblings couldn't hear.

Nodding, Harry shoveled some more eggs into his mouth, trying to look more involved in his food than in conversation.

When Harry was done, he drank his orange juice and stared up at the staff table again. He saw Professor Snape talking with Professor Jones. Neither seemed very happy.

In hushed tones, Harry told the others at his table about the few times he'd heard the Potions and Defense professors arguing.

"Trying to do her job for her, he is," said Ron, looked up at the staff table. "Foul-mouthed bast—"

"Tsk, tsk," said Fred. "What would our dear mother say if she knew of our baby brother's habitual foul language?"

"This sure puts a firecracker in our plans," said George, discouraged and leaning back.

"My foul language?" asked Ron, perplexed.

"No, halfwit," Fred said. "Just the other day, we saw Lupin and Jones strolling about Hogsmeade. I was so sure they would wind up together. And now it looks like Snape has come to steal the werewolf's woman. Though I suppose threesomes aren't out of the question—"

"Wait, _what_?" said Harry, grinning. "You reckon Snape was arguing with her because he...he _likes_ her?"

Hermione and Ron both snorted into their porridge.

"That's absurd!" said Hermione.

"Rubbish," Ron agreed.

The conversation kept going on about the possible Jones/Lupin/Snape triangle, but Harry couldn't stop staring at his two best friends right in front of him.

_Sure wouldn't be the first time someone argued with someone else because they liked them. _

_Ron and Hermione have been going at it for years, and I'd bet my broomstick it's because they both secretly like each other._

Really, he wasn't surprised. It would have taken a Snargaluff pod not to notice the reasons that kept them fighting; how jealous Ron would get when Hermione was with Krum, how furious Hermione became when Ron did not realize her (albeit misplaced) intentions of trying to protect him.

He first noticed it back in fourth year, at the Yule Ball. Ron had been blatantly obvious about his feelings to everyone but himself, and as far as Harry knew, he was still clueless about it.

But did Harry really even want them to hook up together? Sure, that might ease the quarrelling, but...what if they were like Harry and Cho, going out together for a few months, then breaking up horribly? Harry couldn't even look at Cho nowadays without feeling embarrassed or queasy. What if this happened to Ron and Hermione? Their friendship would be completely ruined, their own friendship with Harry would be destroyed as an off-set, and any chance that Harry had to kill Voldemort would be gone—

He simply couldn't do it without them.

It was then he realized that he didn't want them to get together. He didn't want their relationship to change, not for anyone or anything. He didn't want the beau Hermione finally chose to get between her friendship with Harry and Ron, nor did he want any girl he and Ron chose to get between them.

_It would be better that way, _he decided. _It would be better for all of us if we just put each other first, and anyone else comes later. We won't be split up then. We could be friends forever then._

It sounded childish even to him, but he didn't care. He just needed everything to stay the same until he had a chance to get to Voldemort. After that, if they wanted to go their separate ways, he could deal with it then.

Suddenly he was reminded of something he had done quite recently to jeopardize all of that.

He told Ginny of the prophecy. Before telling Ron or Hermione.

Forget how they would react once he told them the prophecy—how would they react when they found out he'd told Ginny first?

He paled a bit at this.

"You all right, Harry?" said Hermione.

He looked up to find Ron and Hermione staring at him, concerned. "Er...yeah...sorry."

"Oh, you should have heard them talking," George was saying.

It took Harry a second to remember what they were talking about. Many people around them stopped their own conversations to look over at them. Noticing they now had an audience, the twins perked up a bit at this.

"There we were, just minding our own business," Fred began in a storyteller's voice. "When they come strolling around the corner, hand in hand, eyes on eyes, heart to heart. Such a sweeter sight never could be found—"

"And we were just innocently washing the windows of our shop—"

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!" Fred shouted out to the masses. "The best prank shop ever to be had, opening Halloween day in Hogsmeade!"

"And we heard them talking," George interrupted with gusto. "First, she asks him if he has a problem that he needs help with, and he says he does."

"'Oh, _really?'"_ Fred put on a high voice for Jones. He fluttered his eyelashes and grinned dreamily. "'However do you mean?'"

By now the entire vicinity was laughing, spurring the twins on.

George's voice grew low and husky for the voice of Lupin. "'Oh, well, you know the kind. I wake up once a month to find myself out of sorts—growing a tail, a snout, sharp teeth, you know the feeling—and wondered if you could help me with my…furry little problem….'"

"'Oh, Remus!'" purred Fred amidst snickers. "'I'd love to!'"

The room grew oddly silent, but the twins didn't notice.

"'So whaddya say we...get together, say, at the next full moon? I'll bring the moonlight and fur coats...you could bring the firewhisky and elfwine...'" George rumbled.

"_Oh?"_ said a dangerous voice behind them. "And what do I say to that?"

The twins' heads snapped up and their faces paled at the sight of Professor Jones.

"Oh, well, er—" stammered George.

"—you'd—er—well, see—" stuttered Fred.

"I do see," said Jones acerbically. To the others, she said, "We're meeting in the third-floor corridor in a half-hour. I'll escort you into Hogsmeade from there. And you two," she stopped, looking back at the twins, "Had better not be with them, for your own sakes."

As she walked away, George comically wiped the unseen sweat from his brow.

Just then, owls swooped into the hall.

"Where's Errol?" said Ginny, scanning the flocking birds above their heads. "Mum and Dad said they'd send us something—"

"There he is!" said Ron, pointing. "Slowpoke as usual. Wait, why's he—"

The messy owl suddenly swooped so low that several girls shrieked, before he collided right into a large bowl, sending pudding flying everywhere.

"Eurgh," said Ron, picking it out of his hair. "Is it just me or is this term much messier than usual?"

"Erm..." said Ginny, prodding the stiff bird. "He's not moving..."

"I can't believe it—!" said Fred, looking closely at the fallen bird. "He's finally croaked it! He's not breathing at all, look!"

George pried the letter from the dead bird's beak. "Poor mite. He was ancient, though."

"Do you...reckon we should bury him?" said Ron, uncertain.

"Oh, what'll we tell Mum and Dad?" said Ginny, distressed. "They loved him! Remember when Errol was nosing around Dad's office and delivered Perkins' toupee to the Minister instead of Dad's report?"

Fred snickered.

Ron still looked concern. "How're we going to pay for another one? We can't use Pig all the time, he's only good for a few trips a month. Since Dad's been cutting back on hours, there's no way they can afford another one anytime soon..."

"Well...I did save up enough to buy a pet anyway," said Ginny, hesitant. "I suppose I could..."

Fred and George looked at each other, expressions unusually serious. "Never fear, Gin. It looks like we'll be accompanying you into Hogsmeade."

"But we don't have the money—"

"Fred and I'll pay for it," said George simply. "We've got enough left over from the store, and we really don't need those doxy eggs for another few weeks..."

Ginny threw her arms around George. "Thank you!"

"Oi!" said Fred, looking put out. Ginny hugged him next.

"No matter what anyone says," she declared, "You two are sweet after all."

"I do believe our reputation has just been ruined," said Fred to George.

"Hey, what about me?" said Ron, looking hurt.

Ginny shrugged. "Get an owl for someone else because they can't afford it, and you'll get one too."

"All right, done," said Ron simply.

She blinked. "What?"

"Pig. You like him more than I do, I get sick of his fluttering far too much, you wanted a pet anyway, and now you can save your money for something else. Sounds good enough for me," he said.

"But...then what would you get out of it?" she asked.

"Not having to deal with a pet anymore just about does it for me," said Ron, smirking. "I don't think I could handle it if he turned out to be another Animagus, anyway. If you want him, he's yours."

Ginny squealed and threw herself at Ron. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Ron looked rather alarmed as he awkwardly put his arms around her and looked at them.

"Ron, that was really—" Hermione started.

"Awww!" chorused Lavender Brown from the table over. "You're so sweet, Ron!"

Fred and George, meanwhile, had their mouths open in indignation.

"We get measly hugs and you get that?" said Fred.

"Who made you her favorite brother?" said George, sullenly.

* * *

It wasn't much longer till they finished breakfast and headed to the third floor corridor, where they met up with the rest of the students being escorted by Professor Jones. Fred and George went on ahead, skirting around the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor nervously. She led the students through the statue and into the tunnel under Hogwarts grounds.

Hermione kept her eye on their professor, trying to read her.

Although Hermione hadn't said a word to Harry and Ron since that night she ruined Harry's mother's book, she still didn't trust Professor Jones. Something about her just seemed so...off. As determined as Hermione was to get to the bottom of it, however, she knew she couldn't just go barging into the Defense office and demand to know why. That was a fool's errand. It made much more sense to gather as much information about the witch as she could. Collect evidence. Bide her time. Research.

And then...when Hermione had exhausted all efforts and come to a logical conclusion...she would go to Professor Dumbledore. He would know what to do.

Crookshanks squirmed in her arms, and Hermione switched him to her other arm, groaning a bit at his weight, remembering her third year.

Going to the Headmaster first had been the plan when she first suspected Professor Lupin of being a werewolf, all those many years ago. Obviously she couldn't have just gone to Lupin and demanded he tell her that he turned into a monster once a month. Fourteen-year-old Hermione had the same dilemma back then too. Confront him...and possibly risk him attacking her, or killing her, in order to keep his secret quiet? She knew it would have been all too easy for him to make it look like an accident. No...and for Hermione to have gone to Harry and Ron with the werewolf information she had collected? She knew there would be no way they would believe her. Not to mention their not talking to her…

If only she'd had the common sense to look more into stupid Scabbers. She should have known he was an Animagus. She should have known better. So focused on protecting Harry, she never thought that Ron would need protection even more…

Of course, even if she had somehow suspected Wormtail like she had Lupin, nobody still would have believed her.

This time, it was no different.

Nobody would believe her about Professor Jones. And nobody else would suspect Jones. She was far too well-liked. Becoming everyone's favorite professor pretty quickly, Jones was rather forward with all of her intentions. Hermione quite liked her too, really.

But the inconsistencies. Although Hermione didn't have the diary anymore to refer to (she cringed again, thinking about this and Harry's rightfully-placed fury), she could remember them as if she'd read it an hour ago.

When Hermione approached Professor Jones after class the other day, she brought the ink-soaked diary with her. Forlornly, she asked Jones if perhaps she had the other copy that Hermione could loan for Harry's sake. But Professor Jones had already known about the everlasting ink spill. She pulled out her own copy, which was drenched in it as well.

"You forget, Miss Granger," said Hestia Jones. "It's a two-way diary. What happens to one...happens to the other. I surmised what must have happened to Harry's copy when I discovered mine like this. I thought it was regular ink at first, but after none of the regular erasing and cleaning charms worked, it didn't take a genius to work out the damage was from everlasting ink."

"I just feel so...foolish. Moronic. If I hadn't pushed Harry…" Hermione said sorrowfully.

Professor Jones smiled, putting her hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"To err is human, Ne—erm...Miss Granger," Professor Jones caught her mistake, eyes a little fearing at what she almost slipped out. "Sorry, I forgot who I was speaking to for a moment…"

Hermione studied her, but Jones turned away, hiding her face as she summoned books and folded papers that were left out by the students. With her wand, she righted chairs that were knocked askew, straightened desks, and opened the windows to air out the musky room.

"Professor...while I was reading...I noticed some things that were odd to me," said Hermione next, careful about her phrasing.

She edged closer to Jones' desk while Jones walked around the room, checking the desks for anything that shouldn't be there.

"What do you need help with, Miss Granger?" said Jones.

Hermione bit her lip.

"You grew up with magical parents, right?"

"Yes, I did."

"In England? Where at?"

Jones turned to face her, eyes suspicious. "London. Why the interest?"

Hermione looked down at her fingers, drumming on Jones' desk. "No reason," she said, rather fast. "Thanks for your time. I truly am sorry about the diaries. Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

Approaching her once more, Professor Jones still looked at Hermione with a guarded expression. Hermione fidgeted under her gaze, eyes going back to the desktop once more. And in that miniscule moment in time, Hermione saw a book partially-covered by parchment. Only a portion of the title could be seen, but what was there was enough to halt Hermione's thoughts.

Jones strode closer, and dropped the leftover textbook she was holding onto her desk. Right onto the book Hermione saw, hiding it.

"I trust you got the birthday gift I sent you?" said Professor Jones.

Hermione flushed at being caught seeing something she shouldn't have.

"Yes, I...thank you. I really appreciated it. You didn't need to..."

Jones smiled. "It was my pleasure. I've really loved having you in class. You bring a lot of...insight. And joy for learning. It is something teachers always want to see."

Hermione smiled back.

She turned to leave the classroom, curious as to what the professor had almost called her. What name started with 'Ne'? But nothing came to mind (Neville? Nearly Headless Nick? Newt Scamander?), and she left the Defense classroom, rather confused as to whose side Professor Jones was really on.

Of course, even with the diary completely ruined, she could remember everything she'd read.

Young graduate Hestia going to see her mum, who should have been dead. Hestia, who couldn't make up her mind on if she was pureblood or muggle-blooded. Hestia, who was really close friends with Severus Snape, who everyone knew dabbled in the Dark Arts back then and was a Death Eating, not-yet-turned-spy for Voldemort… Hestia Jones, who had quite the few dalliances with werewolves, mentioning their packs several times in the book.

Like an insider would.

And of course she couldn't forget the book title she had seen on Jones' desk.

_The Werewolf Cur_—

Hermione, of course, ran wild with this.

Possibilities kept chasing each other down in her mind. Was Hestia a werewolf? It was possible...the first full moon since school started happened just before the start of term. She would have been human enough to escort them to the castle. The next full moon had been on the twenty-sixth...that was two nights ago. Jones would be well enough now to escort them to Hogsmeade.

Of course, she didn't act like a werewolf...not like how Professor Lupin acted when he was the Defense professor, anyway…and would the Headmaster really let two werewolves into his school at the same time?

Was Jones infectious?

But still, Jones' lies could be several other things. Perhaps she was a spy for the werewolves, like Professor Snape was for the Death Eaters. Perhaps she was spying on the Order for Voldemort. Or on Voldemort for the Order. Or maybe she was working alone, not having a side yet, and was hiding something very secretive about her past—

Hermione wasn't paying attention to her where she was going.

The ground dropped sharply and she stumbled. Falling against Malfoy, of all people, who was trying to shove past her.

"Oy, watch it, Granger!" Draco Malfoy said rudely. "Don't want your filthy Mudblood hands getting all over my brand-new cloak."

Crookshanks hissed in her arms and swiped at his hand. Hermione was pleased to see that her cat's claws connected with the Slytherin, a few drops of red appearing on the back of Malfoy's hand.

Malfoy swore at her.

Before she, Harry or Ron could say anything to that, Professor Jones appeared behind them, her expression tight-lipped with anger.

"Mr. Malfoy, you have just cost your house twenty-five points for your language," she said dangerously.

At once, the Slytherins sucked their breaths in, and Malfoy said angrily, "_What?_ But that's not fair—"

"If you've been told that life is fair, you are sadly mistaken. I will take off however many points I wish to _anyone_ who abuses others in my presence, is that clear?" said Professor Jones.

He stared back at her then gave a slow nod and muttered, "Yes."

"Good," she said, then her eyes flashed at the rest of them. "And that goes for all of you. You are all students, you all have the same classes and coursework and teachers—you even wear the same uniforms. If any of you think that you are above anyone else in this school, you couldn't be more wrong. Especially," she said scathingly, turning back to Malfoy. "When you're someone who scraped by with an 'Acceptable' in this class and you're talking down to someone who received an 'Outstanding'."

Malfoy turned pink and glared over at Hermione, muttering under his breath. Professor Jones walked to the front again and continued on.

Hermione heard a few low whistles and a flurry of whispering at what had just transpired.

As they walked by Malfoy, she noticed a few Slytherins glaring at Jones, but there were some that were glaring at Malfoy instead; and a few of the braver Hufflepuffs smirked at Malfoy as they walked by him and said, "Nice going, Malfoy. Looks like you've just put Slytherin in last place."

Ron pulled Hermione along and she belatedly realized that she was so caught up in watching Malfoy that the rest of the class had passed them by as well. All except for Lavender Brown.

Lavender hung back and waited for them to catch up. "Hello," she said in a strangely low voice. "You weren't distracted by _me_, were you, Ron?"

"Er...no..."

"Oh. Well, good. I love a man who knows what he wants," she said before flouncing away.

Ron looked at Harry, who shrugged, and Hermione agreed with them wholeheartedly.

Girls are weird.

All too soon, the Hogwarts students emerged out from Honeydukes and into the golden sunshine.

Hermione breathed in the wonderful crisp autumn air as they walked along the main street of Hogsmeade, wooden and metal shops with their second-story flats above them rising high on either side of the winding cobblestone street. Patched roofs and high gabled windows loomed in the coming dark storm clouds as they walked amidst the bustle of darkly-cladded and hooded witches and wizards.

The first place the boys wanted to go to was Zonko's Joke Shop. It was now being sold out by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and everything was half-off.

"Can you believe that Fred and George sold out Zonko's before they've even opened?" said Ron, impressed. "They said it was because their catalogue went out a few weeks ago, and ever since then Zonko's hasn't had any business at all, even if WWW's customers won't get anything till Halloween. They are that good..."

Hermione simply rolled her eyes at them and left them to it. "Boys," she muttered.

She took Ginny and Luna with her over to Gladrags Wizardwear, where she was eager to spend her birthday money for the upcoming Halloween ball.

Because of the twins paying for a new family owl and Ron giving her Pigwidgeon, Ginny decided to use her money to buy dress robes for it instead too.

"My other ones don't fit anymore, anyway," she said haughtily. "And since I'm not NEWT-level and not exactly allowed to go...if it all goes to pot by then, I'll just make Neville take me again."

Hermione fingered a gold chiffon pattern.

"Well, you know what the remedy is, don't you?" she said to Ginny, then turned to her, smirking. "Ask Harry before someone else does."

Ginny blushed the same shade of salmon pink she was looking at. "And who says I need to ask him?" said Ginny. "He could come to me first, you know."

Luna smiled. "Harry is beginning to like you, Ginny. He keeps looking at you when he thinks nobody is watching. And he drinks an entire cup of elderberry juice every morning."

Ginny stopped. "Er...sorry?"

"Everyone knows that elderberries have humbug eggs in them," said Luna, surprised that this information excluded them. "Humbugs help people to realize their greatest desires. That's why Harry's rather full of it."

Hermione suppressed a smile, and Ginny smirked.

"Hermione, what about this one?" said Ginny, holding up a dark, red dress. "I mean, it's the same shade as elfwine, but…"

"Elfwine? What is that?"

Ginny bit her lip. "You know what, it's not important. Nevermind. It will certainly match Viktor Krum, if not—"

"And who said anything about Viktor coming," said Hermione, eyes narrowed.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, Lavender told me all about the necklace he gave you. Durmstrang colors, then? Isn't this one of them? He was right, it would be good on you...goes perfectly with that necklace, too..."

"Oh, stop it," said Hermione crossly as Ginny and Luna laughed. "You're worse than the Twittering Twins, I swear! They kept teasing me about Viktor and his gift, and I told them the same thing I'll tell you: the only way I'll go with Viktor is if no one else asks me. The ball is over three weeks away, anyhow. Anything could happen until then."

"Anything like...Ron growing a brain and realizing you love him?" said Ginny.

"I don't love him!" Hermione retorted. "I just...wish he'd see I'm a girl, is all. And available. And his best friend..."

"He does notice it a lot now," said Luna, twirling her long hair on her fingers. "But he's not going to realize what it means for another month."

The two girls looked at her. Crookshanks wove in between their ankles, ducking under the dresses, but they paid him no mind.

"You know, Hermione..." said Ginny, stroking the red dress. "I reckon if you start going out with Krum, that might cut the time by half."

Hermione drew her breath in at this. "But I...I couldn't! I wouldn't do that to Viktor, and I couldn't do that to Ron."

Hermione bit her lip, and Ginny eyed her.

"Go on, then, tell us," Ginny said impatiently. "You're doing that thing again."

Hermione gave in. "All right...listen...I haven't told Ron or Harry this: Viktor asked me on a date for today, and I said yes. Not because I want to start a relationship with him," she said hurriedly as Ginny grinned, "But because he deserves to hear how I feel from me. It wouldn't be fair to him if we started going out because of how I still feel about Ron. Even if nothing is going on between Ron and me...I just don't feel as strongly for Viktor as he feels about me. I can't ask that of him. And I won't go out with him if there's no possibility of me falling in love with him."

"Oh, but couldn't it just be a fling?" said Ginny, wistfully. "That's all Dean and I were over the summer. We both agreed that would be it, and now he's with Mandy Brocklehurst and I don't feel jealous at all! I only told Harry I was still going out with him so _he_ would feel jealous."

"Yes, but I'm not like you, Ginny!" Hermione replied forcefully. "It's _always_ been Ron. You know that! Ever since my third year...I've just known. And if he moves on this year...if he never notices me for himself...then...well, that will be it. I'll move on as well."

Ginny grew quiet at her reserved tone. "Why can't you just tell him, Hermione? I hate what this is doing to you. Wouldn't it just be easier to tell him yourself?"

"No!" said Hermione. "You _know _Ron. If I tell him that I like him, it will just confuse him. He'll tell me on the spot that we should go out together, just because he doesn't want to hurt me...and I'll just be left wondering the entire time whether he really likes me back, or whether...whether he's just too afraid to say no, and doesn't want to hurt my feelings."

She stared at the pumpkin orange dress in front of her that reminded her so much of Ron.

She continued bitterly, "Either that or he'll just bluntly refuse and laugh at me in the face. _Either way_, our friendship is ruined. _Either way_, one or both of us is left feeling utterly miserable. _Either way_, he'll hate me for telling him. I just...I can't do it. Our relationship means too much to me. Being friends with Harry is one thing, but being friends with Ron..." Hermione shook her head, speechless. "I just can't throw everything we have away just because I think I _like _him."

Ginny threw her arms around Hermione and unexpectedly hugged her from behind. Hermione gave a small smile, and hugged her back. Luna, however, turned away and noticed something gleaming on the opposite shelf.

"This one," said Luna.

"What?"

"This dress, Hermione. It fits you the best," she said.

In her arms, she held up the perfect set of dress robes.

* * *

In no time at all, the girls met up with the boys, who were all sporting matching looks of glee. They all walked to the Bestiary together, where they found Fred and George. Hermione immediately lugged Crookshanks into the store, and Luna browsed around for some food for her Moon Frog.

"Sappho eats twice as much as other Moon Frogs," she explained to Harry. "She really shouldn't be the size of my face, but she is."

"Any of you interested in buying a new pet?" said the store manager eagerly. "We've just received a new batch of Cruppies and Knittens!"

"Cruppies and Knittens?" said Harry in an undertone to Ron.

"Yeah," answered Ron. "Puppies and kittens. You know, from Crups and Kneazles? They're quite common wizarding pets. I've always suspected that Crookshanks is part-Kneazle, myself..."

Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny ended up getting a chameleon owl named Napoleon to be the new Weasley family owl. It was interesting, walking down the streets of Hogsmeade as Napoleon kept changing colors to match the changing October leaves behind them.

Luna got a bag full of dead bugs for her face-sized frog, and Hermione was very excited to show off Crookshanks' new magical collar as they gathered around her in the street to ooh and ahh at it.

Crookshanks rubbed up against all their legs as if showing off his brand new toy while Hermione held a stone tablet in her hand that showed an intricate map of Hogsmeade. A red, blinking dot showed where Crookshanks was with them.

"Look, see, it can't show everyone else on the map like…" she broke off, casting furtive eyes at Harry. The words 'The Marauder's Map' almost shot right out of her mouth, but she remembered their company just in time. "...like other maps can," she finished. "But watch this! _Majuscula!"_

She spoke to the tablet in an authoritative voice. To their amazement, the map zoomed in and showed a real cat weaving its way around peoples' legs in a street.

She spoke again. "_Miniscula!" _The map zoomed out of the street as it got smaller and smaller, till even Hogsmeade itself was just a small dot on the map, showing the whole of Scotland, till even Scotland itself was a small blurb on the map as it showed the world. And still, the bright red dot showed where Crookshanks was in relation to the world.

"Wicked!" the Weasleys all exclaimed.

"It only works if the collar stays with him, of course," Hermione said, tucking away her tablet, pleased at the attention and at her new toy. Frustrated with the lack of attention he was receiving, Crookshanks took off. Hermione let him go, most likely pleased now that she had a sure way to track him.

"Pity we can't get a cat collar to stick on You-Know-Who," said Ron ruefully. "Imagine how useful that would be…"

"Hey, let's go to the Hog's Head," said George. "I'm fancying a shot of firewhisky instead of butterbeer today."

"Wish we could go as well. I hate not being of age!" said Ginny glumly.

Instead, Harry, Ron and Hermione said goodbye to Ginny, Neville, and Luna, who were off to the Three Broomsticks, and parted ways with Fred and George as well.

With an umbrella charm over their own heads to block out the coming drizzle, and the sky steadily getting darker even though it was nearing lunchtime, the three of them traipsed down the muddy path to the Shrieking Shack to visit Remus Lupin.

"I can't believe Moony lives here," said Hermione in a hushed voice as they neared the 'haunted' house.

Harry could see why she was whispering. It felt like they were walking into the yard of somebody who'd died. The lawn was completely unkempt with yellowing grass and weeds growing in tufts everywhere. There was hardly a path for them to walk up to the front door without little garden gnomes reaching out to grab them. Under the graying sky, the house stared down at them, black windows empty beside decaying, termite-infested wooden siding. Even the porch had cobwebs everywhere.

It really was a huge house, Harry thought, staring up at it. There were three floors, plus the basement, and countless rooms. It just looked...a little worse for wear, was all.

Harry remembered that Lupin had told him there were no working doors or windows that let anyone outside come in. The only entrance was through the tunnel. But that wasn't the case now, as Moony must have added loads more doors and windows since moving in permanently.

If it wasn't so derelict still, it might have looked…

Homey.

As soon as they had run onto the porch to give them cover from the coming deluge, Harry reached up a tentative hand to the door. He was surprised when it didn't fall off its hinges with his knock.

There was a faint croak from inside. "Come in."

Harry opened the door. He was astounded to see Moony sprawled on the couch in a haggard appearance, looking very worse for wear. There were dark circles around his eyes, his lips were chapped, his hair askew, and his breathing came in shallow measures.

All in all, he looked more like their old professor of third year than their new dean of sixth year.

Hermione gasped and ran to his side. "_Moony!"_

Crookshanks came out of nowhere and streaked into the house behind her. He headed straight for the bathroom, where gnawing mice could be heard. Ron darted inside as well, though for a very different reason—a particularly long-legged spider had been dangling right above his head in the doorway.

Harry closed the door behind him and looked around. The inside of the shack was better than the outside, but not by much. The living room had a worn-down fireplace, a mismatched couch and armchair, moth-eaten curtains and a rope-braided rug. If the floor had been swept recently, they sure couldn't tell—most of the dust on the floor seemed to be ingrained into the wood flooring.

The adjoining kitchen wasn't much better. There was no food in the cupboards and the magical icebox in the corner had charms that were clearly dying off, judging by the stench coming from the room.

"Sorry, I...had a rough...night," said Moony from the couch, groaning as he tried to sit up. "'Fraid I won't...be much...of a host."

"Not from the full moon, surely? That was two nights ago! Shouldn't you be—"

But Harry saw the look in Moony's eyes that Hermione missed.

"You were attacked, weren't you?" he said quietly. "You were on a mission for Dumbledore. But I don't see scratches on you, so it couldn't have been the werewolves…"

Remus Lupin looked guiltily at them all.

"I'm sorry...but you're right. Really perceptive, the lot of you. I was helping Dumbledore with something. We were...retrieving something important. Vitally so. Can't defeat Voldemort without it. And no, I can't tell you what it is yet." Moony had too talk louder to be heard over Ron and Harry's barrage of questions about what the mission was. He was far too tight-lipped, however.

Hermione fluffed up the pillow behind his head in an effort to make him more comfortable. Harry and Ron, meanwhile, couldn't stop staring at how awful Lupin looked. His face was white and rather gaunt, and when he held his arm out, it shook.

Seriously, what the hell happened...

"Somehow," Ron muttered, "I don't think chocolate is going to cure this one..."

"You really shouldn't be living by yourself like this...Harry, could you wet a clean rag in the kitchen?" said Hermione, taking off her jacket and getting right to business. "Let's get you comfortable, professor. Then you can take a nap, and we'll get your house sorted out in no time."

"Er—we will?" said Ron.

"Of course we will! It's the least we can do to help. And it's not like you had anything else productive planned, Ron," she said.

Harry brought her a very questionable rag, and cast a quick cleaning charm on it before applying it to Moony's forehead.

There was something very motherly in the way Hermione took off Moony's shoes and socks and propped his feet up on a pillow—quite like a doting daughter would have—that left Harry in awe. He had never seen this side of her used on a teacher before, he realized.

"Harry, could you help me take off his cloak? And Ron, he needs a glass of water," she said.

As Harry helped take off the outer cloak off Moony—whose arms were rather heavy despite his half-open eyes—whilst Ron tried his hand at the new spell they were learning in Charms.

"Aguamenti," muttered Ron. "Aguamenti...agua_menti_...agua—aaarrrgghh!"

Harry snickered as water shot straight into Ron's face.

"The tap also works fine," said Hermione dryly.

They laughed.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Favorite line? Any thoughts on what will happen next? Anything you want to have happen next? Let me know in your review! Thanks for reading. :) Cheers!**


	20. Firewhisky and Elfwine

**FIREWHISKY AND ELFWINE**

It wasn't long before Moony was completely zonked out on the couch.

Hermione arranged a blanket around him before looking around. "What the...where's my…"

"What?" said Harry, concerned.

She gasped. "My wand! I lost my wand! _Harry!_"

Harry's and Ron's heads both jerked around.

"You lost your _wand_?" said Ron, aghast.

Harry and Ron both went over to help her find it.

It wasn't amongst the couch cushions, however. The summoning charm didn't turn up anything besides Moony's unfamiliar one, and a quick search through the den proved fruitless.

"When did you last see it?" Harry said.

Hermione was really agitated by this point. "Erm...I guess...I don't _know_...this morning, maybe? I put it in the pocket of my skirt...and I was holding Crooks, but he's been so squirmy today...then I came downstairs...then breakfast...then we went in the tunnel to Hogsmeade…"

"Did it fall out somewhere, you reckon?" said Ron, concerned, face turning ashen. "Hermione, where the hell did you put it? You can't just...people don't just..._lose their wands!"_

"Ron, calm down. I'm sure it just fell out—"

"What do you mean, calm down?" he spluttered. "It's easy for you to say, Harry. Neither of you grew up having wands around you your whole lives. They are like...like...like if you just lost a thousand galleons! People don't just lose a _thousand _galleons!"

He was right, Harry thought. Neither he nor Hermione could fully understand, given their upbringings and not having wands at their sides their whole lives.

Hermione, meanwhile, was turning the room upside-down.

"I guess...it must have...oh _no…"_

"Relax, Hermione. Okay? Just breathe. We'll find it later. Right now let's just take care of Moony, all right?"

"All right...all right...Harry, why don't you clean the kitchen, Ron take the living room, and I'll tackle the rest of the house."

"...and Crookshanks will be designated rat-catcher," finished Ron with disgust, as the half-Kneazle strolled into the room, a smug look on his face despite the three rat-tails dangling from his mouth.

"I hope one of those is Wormtail," Harry muttered.

Hermione kept speaking. "And I….I'll just….clean the old fashioned way…."

The next hour was a very harrowing one.

Harry Scourgified all the cupboards, after finding rat droppings in all but one. He sicced Crookshanks loose in the rest of the kitchen while trying to think of a good mouse-repelling charm to keep them out of the pantry. He went through the icebox and threw away all the food that had gone rancid. Next were all the dirty dishes stacked high in the sink, and for once Harry allowed himself to be grateful to the Dursleys for making him be their standard dish-washer all those years.

Ron, meanwhile, didn't do too bad of a job in the other room. He beat the moths and odd doxy or two out of the curtains. When Harry saw him furtively drop what appeared to be a handful of tiny beads into his pocket, Ron noticed him watching and shrugged.

"Doxy eggs," he said. "For Fred and George, you know. Since they're buying the parents an owl and all..."

Harry didn't say anything, but his grin made Ron redden anyway.

Hermione came down the stairs an hour later. "Bedrooms are all done," she said, pleased. "The kitchen looks amazing, Harry! And the living room is...er..."

She looked over at Ron, who was lazing on the armchair while he conducted the mop around the floor with his wand.

"Did you do it all without getting up?" she asked him.

Ron shrugged.

Moony was just waking up when the front door opened and a slim, dark woman entered, levitating bags of food.

"I'm here for your check-up, Remus. And I thought I'd bring some food as well, considering how you're feeling—oh! I see you have company!" she said, smiling at them.

"Ah!" said Moony, his voice sounding much better after his nap. "Aletha, meet Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. They're former students of mine—well, current now. You three, this is Aletha Freeman, my neighbor and Healer."

Aletha Freeman set the bags down on Harry's clean counter and came over to greet them. She had very pleasant features, Harry noticed. Her clothes told Harry that although she was a Healer, she was currently off-duty. She wore her black hair unplaited and pulled back into a bun; and when she spoke, it was with a musical voice. Even her kind black eyes made Harry feel like they were hugging him. He soon found out why.

"Harry, dear! I haven't seen you since you were a baby—you wouldn't remember, of course—" she said, when he shook her hand.

He pulled back, startled.

"Freeman?" said Hermione. "You're Meghan Freeman's mother, aren't you?"

"Why, yes! Have you met her, then?" said Aletha.

"Only briefly last year," Hermione confessed. "She's a year beneath us and needed help with her end-of-year exams, so she came to me. She seemed rather nice, though."

Aletha chuckled as she started to put the food away. "Nice? You're being far too kind. That girl is a firecracker. She should have her own Filibuster's firework named after her. My! This kitchen looks spotless!"

"No thanks to me," said Moony ruefully. "The kids took to cleaning the house while I was asleep. It really looks transformed."

Hermione beamed as Crookshanks walked into the room, licking his chops, and jumping onto Moony's lap.

"All right, food's put away...in fact, would you like to get some lunch ready, Hermione? You three are welcome to eat with us—it is the least we can do for the work you've done. I left some sandwich things on the counter. Now let me get a good look at you, Remus," said Aletha Freeman, striding over to the couch.

However, instead of looking at Remus, her eyes were fixated on the cat.

"Why, where did you come from?" she gasped, picking Crookshanks up.

"Yeah, I know," said Ron, nodding sagely. "He's ugly, inne…"

"No, it's not that...I've seen this cat before..."

"He's mine, actually. His name is Crookshanks. I've had him for a few years now, you might have seen him around Hogsmeade before. He tends to do that—running about the castle while I'm asleep, and heading towards the village while I'm in classes—" said Hermione.

"_Crookshanks!"_ the dark woman breathed. "You used to belong to James and Lily, didn't you? I used to babysit little Harry, and you used to help...oh, but you were just a Knitten then..."

Hermione's hand slipped. Her knife thudded on the counter.

Harry swiveled around. "_What?"_

The room was quiet as they all stared at Aletha Freeman.

"You mean James' and Lily's old cat? But how can you be sure?" said Moony, puzzled.

"Oh, Remus, don't you remember that game of wizard's toss James and Sirius used to play with Harry and the cat? I'm sure Harry's still got the scars to prove it—and this cat definitely does, see here? There's a small hole in his ear. I'll bet you anything that's from when Sirius forgot to catch Crookshanks and the poor tiny thing landed on his lit wand instead..."

Remus sat up, looking closer at the half-Kneazle. "That's right! How could I have forgot? When I first saw him, I knew he looked familiar...but I simply couldn't place it. James bought him for Lily when they first got married! He's not a tiny fuzzball anymore..."

"Huh," said Ron, amused. "Well. Whaddya know."

"But," Harry spluttered, "It could've been any cat...how do you know..."

Aletha chuckled. "How many half-Persian, half-Kneazle hybrids are there running around with golden fur, a bottlebrush tail, and an ugly, squashed face with a hole in his ear like this one, do you reckon?"

Harry stood up and walked over to Crookshanks with newfound eyes. "Hey there," he said, rubbing the cat's fur. "I don't suppose you remember them, do you? Hey, that must be why he likes me loads better than Ron! He's known me since I was a baby!"

"If he used to belong to Harry's parents...how did he get to be here?" said Hermione slowly. "I found him at the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. The woman said he'd been in there for ages, no one wanted him. He had been found wandering the streets somewhere, and someone brought him there."

"I haven't seen him since before that Halloween. After it happened, Crookshanks probably took off, his collar still attached," said Aletha. "That explains why he still has the name."

"Do you remember how he got by it, Letha?" said Moony.

"Yes...it was James' great-uncle, Albertus Crookshanks. James used to hate the fellow. When he passed away, James and Lily got the cottage at Godric's Hollow, and to thank him, they named their cat after him. Although...it was mostly because they looked rather the same, with their faces squashed, a permanently grumpy look..." she trailed off, thinking about days long gone.

They were interrupted just then when the door opened to reveal a skinny girl, her arms loaded with sweets. "Hullo, Mum! Just been to Zonko's, they were loaded! Hi, Un—who're you?"

Meghan Freeman stopped and looked at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She looked quite a bit like her mother, except her hair was worn in braids with beads at their ends. And her eyes...Harry was suddenly struck by the ferocity of her gray eyes—he felt like he'd seen them on someone else before, but not Meghan or Aletha Freeman.

"Er...Harry Potter," he said, realizing she was talking to him. "Apparently your mum used to babysit me."

He remembered his manners and stuck his hand out to shake hers. She stuck a Zonko's chocolate bar in his outstretched hand. "Huh," she said.

"Ah, Meghan, you're here. Have you four met? You three, this is my daughter, Meghan. She's a fifth-year and in Slytherin. Meghan, this is Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. They're friends of your Uncle Moony's," said Aletha Freeman.

"Uncle Moony?" Harry and Ron chorused.

"Oh—Remus and I met in school and have been friends ever since," said Aletha. "She grew up with him. Couldn't pronounce 'Remus', see."

"As I recall, you were the same way, Harry," said Moony. "You called me...'Moo-ey', if you will."

Harry snorted.

"You're Slytherin?" said Ron, still stuck on this first bit. Hermione reached out and whacked him on the back of his head.

"Yeah. And what of it?" said Meghan defensively.

He reddened and muttered something about "Just asking..."

"If you could set those down, Pearl, I could use your help over here. And bring the bottle of firewhisky, would you?" said Aletha. She now had her wand poised above Lupin's heart where a blue mist hovered, counting the visible beats with a silver instrument in her hand.

"Yes, Mum," said Meghan, sighing. She dumped her load on the armchair Ron had vacated.

"Oy—I just cleaned that—"

"Good, now I need you to see if his bite is getting lighter," said Aletha, uncorking the bottle and giving it to Moony. He swigged it, eyes closed in pain.

Meghan nodded, closed her eyes, and rested her hand on Moony's arm. She stood perfectly still for several moments before opening her eyes again and saying, "It is, but not as light as last month's. The work he's doing for Professor Dumbledore is stressing him out."

Aletha pursed her lips. "All right. Thank you."

"Oh, and he's not eating enough meat!" said Meghan. "He needs more protein."

"What do you take me for, Pearl?" said Moony, wincing but giving her a wink. "A carnivore?"

"He's teasing me again," she grumbled as she picked up her sweets. "I'm going back home to drop my load off, Mum. And to feed...er...Maya and Valentine. Their bowls are empty again."

"Don't stay too long—you know you're not supposed to during the school-year. Just because we live in Hogsmeade, doesn't mean you get privileges, young lady."

Meghan sighed irritably. "Yes, Mama."

She left, forgetting to close the door behind her.

Aletha sighed and flicked her wand towards it. "That girl...getting more like her father every day."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded, feeling more confused by the minute about the entire exchange. Personally, Harry got lost right around the time Aletha Freeman came in, claiming Hermione's cat used to belong to him.

"We...erm...should probably go. Thank you for lunch. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Freeman," said Hermione.

"_Ms._ Freeman," said Aletha, eyes darkening. "My husband is no longer with us. And please, call me Letha. Thank you for looking in on Remus and cleaning this pigsty so well."

"Goodbye, Moony," said Hermione. She hesitated, then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

Touched, he smiled and blinked a few times as if there were something in his eye.

"Why, thank you, Hermione," he said.

After they left, Harry remembered that they forgot to tell Moony about Voldemort being after Ron and Hermione.

But...well, it rather seemed that Moony had enough to be getting on with for the moment.

* * *

_That was the weirdest former professor meeting I've ever had_, thought Ron later as they walked down the street to the Three Broomsticks, looking all over for Hermione's wand. He voiced this to Harry, who smiled.

"Nah, you're forgetting Lockhart in St. Mungo's last year," said Harry.

"Ohh, yeah." Ron grinned as he remembered. "And Lupin's twice as hairy, too."

"I just feel so sorry for him," said Hermione.

"Lockhart?"

"No," she said loftily, and stroked Crookshanks. "Moony."

"That girl was rather odd," said Ron. "Meghan. And was it just me, or did she look a lot younger than a fifth-year?"

"I do believe you're right. She actually looked more like she was thirteen. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore let her in early for special circumstances. He does that every once in a while," Hermione said.

They stopped by Gladrags to see if Hermione's wand was in there. It wasn't. Dejected, they traipsed the rest of the way to the Three Broomsticks.

"I could have sworn I put it in my pocket. But maybe I didn't. Maybe it's still sitting on my nightstand," she said aloud. "Oh, I don't know. I didn't sleep very well…"

She opened the door to the Three Broomsticks. Harry and Ron glanced at each other before following her.

"Hey, there's Hagrid," said Harry. He walked around the crowded pub to go sit by him. "Hello, Hagrid—"

Ron sat down beside him and snuck Hagrid's draught beer for a swig when Hagrid wasn't looking, just as Hermione lugged Crookshanks over.

"OY! Get it away from me!" Hagrid roared. "Keep that ruddy animal away 'afore I—"

He let out a great sneeze that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building.

"Oh—right—" Harry stuttered. "I forgot—sorry—you're allergic to them—"

He stood up to go find another table, but Hermione stopped him. "No, I'll leave," she said. "You two stay here, it's fine. I have a date with Viktor anyway—"

Ron spat out the draught all over Hagrid. "You have a _what_?"

Harry and Hermione looked at him.

"A date," she said, as if speaking to a child. "With Viktor Krum. He and I are going out for drinks."

"But—but—" Ron spluttered, face turning red. "_There are drinks in here!"_

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Somewhere _else_, Ron. Now if you'll excuse me..."

"Somewhere like Madam Puddifoot's?"

"I really don't know—he said it was going to be a surprise. And why does it even matter?"

"Because it's _him _is why!" Ron suddenly snapped.

"Oh, Ron, please, do we have to go into this again? Just because he's a teacher—"

"It's because I don't trust him!"

"Well, YOU aren't the one dating him, are you?" she shouted, "_I_ am!"

At once, there was silence at these words.

_She's..._

_She's dating_ _him? _Ron thought. Her words seemed to echo around in his mind. _She's dating him. She's dating him. She's dating him._

"You're..._dating_ him?" said Harry.

She sighed. "No. Yes. I don't know. That's what he wanted to talk about. I still don't know if it's what I want. But I really do need to go see him, and I'm already late."

"Hermione!" Harry said, stopping her. "Really, I don't think you should go without your wand. You won't have a way to protect yourself. Especially with…" he lowered his voice. "...with You-Know-Who being after you."

"Really, Harry? I had it the last time the Slytherins grabbed me, and fat load of good that did," she reminded him ruefully. "I won't be long, okay? I'll just be a few shops over, we'll be in public, and Viktor will protect me if anything is amiss, all right? Now goodbye Harry, goodbye Hagrid...goodbye, Ron."

She looked over at Ron, but Ron didn't see her. He was too busy avoiding her eyes, staring at the tabletop instead of her face. When he didn't respond, she sighed, picked up Crookshanks, and left.

As soon as she was gone, Ron stared after her in silence, his face turning from red to white in moments.

"Don' mind me," Hagrid grumbled, still wiping off Ron's spat-out beer with his large hanky. "I'm not the one wha' upended me own drink..."

Ron didn't hear him. He watched as Hermione opened the door across the room, and ran straight into Viktor bloody Krum. She looked surprised, and they started talking. Almost subconsciously, Krum lifted the heavy Crookshanks out of her grasp and offered her an arm. Ron watched as she smiled, eyes sparkling. She took Krum's arm and they walked out the door, chatting animatedly.

They were gone.

* * *

When Hermione left with Krum, a million thoughts were going through her mind. Half of them were about Viktor—how nice he looked in his casual white shirt, how sweet he was to offer her his arm. But she couldn't help but wonder why she was doing this.

_Why am I turning him down when all he's ever made me feel is beautiful?_

And yet, Ron kept plaguing the other half of her mind. She couldn't forget how he had been looking at her in the Three Broomsticks. There was this murderous expression on his face; it was the Yule Ball all over again, and Hermione could feel the tension building up between them—there would be an all-out row soon enough.

His words from the Yule Ball echoed back to her.

"_You—you're—fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"_

"_He's just trying to get closer to Harry—get inside information on him—or get near enough to jinx him—"_

It wasn't true, she told herself again. It didn't matter what Ron thought anymore. Viktor was here for her, the Triwizard Tournament didn't matter anymore, it had been fake Moody all along, not Krum. Never Viktor Krum...

"Vot is the matter, Her-mione?" said Viktor.

She looked up at him. He was staring down at her, concerned.

"Nothing," she said, giving him a smile. "Nothing is wrong. Do you need any help?"

He had been struggling with Crookshanks for the past five minutes. "I am sorry—I am not seeming to have a vay vith him."

Hermione chuckled and grabbed her half-Kneazle as he took another swipe at Viktor.

"It's all right. He's like this with all the boys I meet," she said. "Bad Crookshanks! You be nice!"

She thought about telling him what they recently learned about Crookshanks belonging to Harry's mum and dad, then decided against it.

"Except for Harry Potter, right?" he said.

She stopped. "Sorry?"

"He's like this vith all the boys you meet...except for Harry Potter," he corrected her.

Her smile slowly slid off her face. "How...how did you know that?"

He shrugged, not looking at her. "I've seen your cat around, many times. He's never been uneasy around Harry Potter, I am seeing."

She nodded slowly.

"Yes...I suppose..except Harry…"

They continued walking down Hogsmeade's main street. The sky had let up from its brief bout of rain earlier, but threatened to spill again at any moment. Hermione's hair kept floating about her head as the wind pushed it back and forth. She followed Viktor as he took a goat-path that led them away from the village.

"Viktor, where are we going? I thought we were going for drinks?"

He held up the basket he'd been carrying. "I haff drinks. I thought ve could picnic at a place I found. If...that is all right vith you?"

She hesitated, seeing where the path led them—the woods were dark on either side of Hogsmeade, and she could hear a stream trickling its way to Hogwarts lake. Her thoughts briefly flew from her wand, to Voldemort and Malfoy's pronouncement, then to the Aurors and D.A. told to keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

But the rare smile on Viktor's face...the hand he was offering...she didn't want to disappoint him...

Besides she had her ferocious mini-lion, and she had Viktor, and was fully capable of taking care of herself...

"No, it's fine. But please, let's not be long. It's already getting dark and Professor Jones will be along soon to collect the students," she said.

"Of course," he said, grinning. "I shan't keep you vaiting. I must to speak vith you."

She took his arm again and followed him through the dark trees.

* * *

Ron couldn't take it anymore. It didn't matter how much he hated the bastard. He didn't even know why he was feeling this way. It was like that first week during the summer when he saw Ginny with Dean. Every single part of him screamed out in protest, wanting to pummel the guy up.

_Dad told me I was just feeling over-protective. Because she's my sister. _

_That must be what I'm feeling now. I've practically grown up with Hermione. She spends summers and Christmases at the Burrow, I see her every day at school...we've been through quite a bit together. _

_She must be like a sister to me for me to feel this way when she's with Krum. _

_That's all it is. I'm just being over-protective. _

_And if I ever see Harry kiss a girl, which I _really _don't want to see, then I'll feel the same over-protective thing with him as well._

_That's all this is._

But if it was, why did he still feel this bloody awful?

He remembered something Ginny had said over the summer. "_You're just jealous! I have Dean, Harry had Cho, Hermione had Krum...and all you had was Auntie Muriel! If you hate watching me snog Dean so much, why don't you go and find someone for yourself?"_

It was then that Ron realized something needed to change. He couldn't stand watching Hermione with Krum, or Ginny with Dean. Harry even had Cho back in fifth year, but Ron...he'd never had anybody.

He was going to change that.

"Ron?" said Harry as Ron abruptly got up from the table. "Ron, where are you going?"

Ron ignored him and walked out the door.

* * *

They came out in a little glade, the branches above covering up the sky, ivy twisting up the trunks and giving them shade. In the middle of the glade was a shallow stream, where the water danced across the tops of smooth rocks and pebbles. The sun had just become hidden by the clouds and there was a feeling of hushed twilight to the air. The scene looked like something out of a fairytale.

"Oh, Viktor! It's beautiful!"

He smiled at her, his dark eyes twinkling for once. "I thought this vould please you."

Grinning at him, she took his hand. What a sweetheart.

He helped her across the stream, both of them wading in it and laughing. The water only came to the hem of her skirt and their socks and shoes littered the smooth rocks. He spread their picnic out on a moss-covered boulder and they sat and ate while talking.

At first it was the mundane stuff—there were many things about him she didn't know, she realized. Then it turned into something more.

"So what happened to your ear? I heard you can't hear out of it anymore?" she said.

"Ah," he said, putting his grapes down. "It vos close to the end of a match, see? Bulgaria against Hungary. Ve vere up by close to two hundred points ven I saw the Snitch. It vos next to Hungarian Beater Baranyai, but he is not seeing it. I go towards him, but a Bludger is coming the opposite vay as vell. I catch the Snitch, Baranyai raises bat to hit at Bludger, but my head is on the other side of it. He hits Bludger hard, and Bludger hits my head instead, like _this—_!"

He hit his fist against the rock to prove his point. Hermione flinched.

"Next thing I am knowing, two knocked-out teeth, blood pouring from my ear, and eardrum is being broken. And so, I vear this magical aide to help me to hear. Exciting story, no?"

"Of course, it isn't!" Hermione gasped. "It's ghastly! Whyever do you play?"

He studied her for a bit. "You are liking your friends Potter and Veasley, are you not?"

"Of course—they're my best friends."

"In Bulgaria, I am hearing much of your adventures. This one last you had at your Ministry of Magic vos very dangerous. I am vondering vy you don't stop being friends vith them, as they keep putting you in danger's path."

"Well, I love them. I want to help them as much as I can. They would be in so much more trouble if I weren't there to help them, or to reason with them, or to fight with them. It doesn't matter how dangerous it gets, I'm always going to be with Harry and Ron. We're best friends. I can't just abandon them because there's the possibility of me getting...hurt..._oh_..." she finished sheepishly.

"You understand, no?"

Hermione nodded, realizing what he meant.

He pulled out two glasses from his basket and a bottle of what looked like mulled wine. She looked at it uneasily. "Viktor, I'm—not of age."

He was, though. She belatedly remembered the age different between them.

"And that is reason to not do something you love?" Viktor said, and gave her a glass. She raised it to her lips and drank slowly. It wasn't her first taste of wine—her parents were just fine with the occasional toast on special occasions. There was an odd taste to this one though...

"You know vy they call it elfvine, no?" he said, looking over at her. "It is very expensive. It is being said that a Bulgarian cook some hundred years ago vos concocting a new vine recipe through use of his house-elf, when this house-elf is falling in. The minister liked the taste so much, he patented it. I am believing they still use elf ears in the mixture now—"

Hermione spewed the rest of her drink into the creek.

"That's _horrid!"_ she cried.

"But Her-mione—you are not liking it—"

At once, she grabbed his wand to do the Water Charm to rinse her mouth out, then Scourgified it. Viktor watched her through it all, bewildered.

"Please, drink more. I am sure you vill like it if you haff more—Her-mione—"

"_No! _I'm sorry, Viktor, I don't mean to upset you, but—"

"I am not doing something right?"

"No, that's not it, it's just—oh, maybe I should leave—" she said, distressed. Standing up, she gathered up her things to go.

"But—Her-mione—"

Hermione glanced down at him, but her vision swam. Her head was feeling so fuzzy...so clouded…warm and giddy feelings encompassed her thoughts...why did...she...and _Merlin_ did she want to hug Viktor, to hold him, to be with him...

Viktor stood up, and her eyes followed his progress haltingly. There was this warm aura about him, and she reached out to caress his cheek—

A branch cracked in the woods. Their heads jerked towards the sound.

A beast emerged from the darkness.

* * *

Ron didn't know what he was trying to find. Hermione? But no… she wasn't anywhere. Krum of course hadn't taken her to any of the shops in Hogsmeade—Ron had searched them all.

And it was quite by accident that he bumped into a bunch of schoolgirls from Hogwarts as they traipsed around the cobblestone street.

"_Oof_—sorry—I didn't mean—"

"Ron?"

He looked up and came face to face with—

"Lavender?"

Her girlfriends twittered at the two of them, as he helped her up from bumping into her.

"We were actually just talking about you," she said with a smile.

"You were? Er—no, I'm busy. Have you seen Hermione? There is something I have to tell her—"

"We were talking about which member of the new Gryffindor team we'd like to snog the most," said Lavender with a flirtatious grin. "We all picked you."

Whispered voices and guffaws came from all the blushing girls behind her. Words like "Lavender!" "Shut up!" "You didn't—!" could clearly be heard through the tantalizing shock and glee at Lavender uttering their darkest secrets.

Ron's head jerked down from where it was trying to look over their heads for a glimpse of Hermione on the street. The girls all tittered at the blush creeping up his face.

"You picked—not—Harry?"

"Oh no, he's far too moody and depressed. Not much fun at all. Besides, Ron," said Lavender softly, slinking up to him and putting her hand on his arm. "Your muscles...that physique...you are literally quite the catch among the girls…"

All thoughts of Hermione flew clean from his mind.

Lavender's pretty face was so close to his he could practically count every single one of her mascara-drenched eyelashes. And...what was that sparkling on her cheeks…

Her lips were too close to his for him to care much about anything else.

"DIE, BLOOD TRAITOR!"

A deep-throated shout from behind him shattered his senses, and he whipped around just in time to see the Death Eater.

Like a nightmare rising out of a fairytale.

Fear and anger gripped him.

The girls screamed.

The Death Eater advanced, two wands held tight in both hands. Ron pushed Lavender and the other girls behind him, his wand out—

But the danger didn't come from the advancing Death Eater.

Something large and very hard cracked into the back of his head from the corner of his eye.

Ron went down.

Hard.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Dun, dun, DUN. Don't you just love cliffhangers! Aletha and Meghan Freeman are characters from Whydoyouneedtoknow's Dangerverse "Living with Danger" which is an AMAZING Harry Potter fanfic storyverse (with a million sequels and AU stories), so be sure to read LwD while waiting for my next chapter! Stay tuned for the next chappie, and be sure to review so it can get here faster. Next chapter… "Heads Will Roll" (le gasp!)**


	21. Heads Will Roll

**HEADS WILL ROLL**

Hermione's eyes widened.

It was, undoubtedly, a werewolf. But something was wrong...very wrong…as if the transformation had gone horribly awry. Parts of him were either still human, others were just wolf, and some...a grotesque, nightmarish mix of the two.

And out of the human parts she could see, there was no denying the fact that this was Fenrir Greyback.

The one who turned Moony.

_That's not possible. That's_ not _possible. _

It wasn't a full moon. The moon wasn't even out. It wasn't even _night_. _This wasn't possible._

Her own voice grew annoying in her ears, but she couldn't drown out that voice, which was getting far more shrill and hysterical as the reality of the situation slammed into her.

And yet, he was here all the same, advancing towards them slowly, growling, saliva dripping from his wide open snout. Greyback was massive, larger than Moony had been, creeping forward on all fours, teeth sharp, claws already bloody from a recent kill.

_My wand. My wand. I need my wand. Harry, HELP!_

Hermione was a very big proponent in treating all creatures equally. In house elf rights, in werewolf rights, in making sure they could live normal, healthy lives with decent wages and affordable housing. Making sure they were happy, taken care of, and felt understood by the government, their co-workers, and their peers.

But all of that flew clean out of the window when the werewolf lunged.

Hermione screamed.

* * *

"_Protego Domus!"_ shouted Ron.

The shield was up before he had even hit the cobblestones. The gray air around him was thick and heavy with humidity, but the bluish dome covered him and, to his utmost relief, Lavender and the girls.

"Ron!" Lavender shrieked, clutching his blue sweater and helping him up.

Worry for her ripped through him, and Ron held up his wand to stop another barrage of attacks as the Death Eater came closer, shooting spell after spell.

The girls screamed and tried to run away, but Ron's dome shield held them fast, protecting them...and effectively trapping them in as well.

The Death Eater's non-verbal jinxes slammed into his shield, and Ron grunted from the force.

But more curses bounced off his dome, and Ron grabbed Lavender's unused wand right out of her hand.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _Ron roared, and his silver crup came out of Lavender's wand.

"Find Harry!" he told it, and the canine ran off to obey, taking off down the cobblestone street in search of his best friend.

_Harry's coming._

Hope buoyed him, and Ron added the power from Lavender's wand to the shield. "_Protego Domus!"_

It worked. With the continuous light streaming out of both wands, none of the advancing Death Eater's spells were getting through.

"You can do it, Ron!" said Lavender, holding on to him.

Her words strengthened him with a power greater than any he had known before. The inertia required to keep up such a strong spell was taking a toll on him, but her words boosted him with more confidence.

_I can do it. I can hold it till Harry comes._

Ron's weakening shield wavered under a new volley of attacks, and the fear that he couldn't hold it up reigned supreme.

The dome flickered as he sank to his knees. The girls around him screamed.

_Keep holding it...just keep holding it…_

* * *

But it wasn't Harry who saved her.

It was Viktor.

Viktor shoved Hermione out of the way just in time, and she fell to the ground. Whipping her head around, she watched in horror as Viktor fell to the ground _hard_ with several pounds of werewolf on him.

"_Viktor!" _she screamed.

The werewolf snarled and growled as he fought the young man. Viktor grunted, holding onto Greyback's throat and jaws as he kept the gnashing teeth from biting him. They rolled around in the grass, each trying to get the upper hand...each fighting for their lives.

_Where the hell is my bloody wand?_

Hermione seized a pointed, fist-sized rock and threw it at Greyback's head. Then she threw another, and another, in her haste at getting the monster off the man who saved her.

It worked, a little too well.

Greyback roared and jumped off of Viktor, who remained unmoving in the grass, as Greyback turned towards Hermione—

Terrified, she screamed as Greyback leapt onto her, his paws digging unmercifully into her wrists. She slammed into the cold grass, his weight alone making her choke for air. But still she grabbed his jaw and neck like Viktor had done, in a vain effort to keep the beast from biting her. From marking her. From _turning_ her.

"HARRY!" she found herself screaming in pain, her best friend's name wrenching out of her mouth as if the mere whisper of it would bring him to her.

But he wasn't coming to save her.

She was on her own.

The desperation for survival made her cry and scream as she had only ever done under the Cruciatus. Greyback's gnashing teeth tried to get her, and he was too strong—

She screamed again as her arms weakened and his snout lunged terrifyingly close to her face. She turned her head away from him, eyes shut tight, exposing her throat to him. Hermione rolled her head away from his snout, trying in vain to push him off her, but doing so made her neck bare to the werewolf, and a new howling sound came out of Greyback as he saw her throat and the throbbing veins.

And, suddenly, the werewolf on top of her grew still.

Greyback grew quiet in a way that was far more unnerving than his snarls. Instead of trying to bite her like he had done to Viktor, he just breathed in, his mouth wide and almost grinning a sadistic grin that was way too human to be seen on a wolf's face.

He knew he had won.

Triumph gleamed in his bloodthirsty eyes.

Then Greyback's mouth opened as he went in for the kill—

* * *

_I can't do it._

Ron felt bile rising in his throat from the sheer loss of power.

He felt so weak...numbly, he remembered what his mother told him long ago, when he asked her what her labor with him was like before he was born. She told him that her labor with him was worse than it had been with his siblings. Just before he came out into the world, one fist above his head and tearing his way out, Mum said she started throwing up, and that was how she knew she was in transition.

"But why would you throw up?" Ron had asked, revolted. "You weren't sick."

"Because there are times when a person feels all their power leaving them, and this makes everything in their body weak," Mum had replied, smoothing his hair down. "It's like that for a woman giving birth. Or for someone on their deathbed. Their body is too weak to work properly. This doesn't mean that I didn't want you to be born—heavens, no!—I would go through it all over again a thousand times just to have you here with me. Because you are worth all the power that I have, Ronnie."

Her long-ago words echoed in his mind.

And now...they were giving him strength.

"I can...I can...do it…" Ron tried to get the words out, but his ability to talk was diminished.

"Just hold on a little longer, Ron..." said Lavender comfortingly, then she rounded on her friends. "Doesn't _anyone else _know this spell?"

But they didn't have to shake their heads, eyes wide, for Ron to know of course they wouldn't know the spell. It was sheer luck that he even knew it. It wasn't taught in their _Standard Book of Spells_ for a reason. Because of the dome's continual need to be fed magic to be reinforced, it wasn't favored quite like the regular shield charm, which was just a quick cast, or one-and-done as they were called.

And the fact that it drained its caster often to the point of death, made it actually rather banned.

Not that he cared at the moment. The need to protect Lavender and her friends greatly outweighed the consequences.

Concentrating on keeping his arms up, on keeping the light streaming out of both wands from the dual power of his shield charm, Ron's arms started shaking.

_Just...keep...holding it…_

_Someone is coming. _

_They will help._

Head swimming, Ron momentarily blacked out. It must have just been seconds, because when he came to, he was still upright, wands in arm, holding up the wavering shield. The sheer need to stay awake lured him back into consciousness.

Just six feet away from them, the Death Eater's unnervingly masked face betrayed no emotion as he tried harder to get through. His stamina was both exhausting and overwhelming. And Ron knew the strategy his enemy was enacting just as easily as he could read his opponent's moves on the chess board. They both knew that it didn't matter what curses the Death Eater threw at him. As long as he kept up shooting power-draining spells at the weaker points in the shield, sooner or later it would be weak enough to collapse.

It was what Ron would have done. And it looked like that would happen sooner rather than later.

_Just...keep...just...just..._

Relentlessly the Death Eater struck harder and faster, knowing the shield was almost down. The two wands of the dark, hooded wizard faced off with the two wands of the light-encased, redheaded schoolboy. The curses striking through the growing holes in Ron's shield held tremors that shot up the streams going right into Ron's wands, and continued into his hands and arms like it was lightning.

Ron roared from the pain and knew he had mere seconds.

* * *

"_INCENDIO!"_

A roar of pain—smoke and burning hair hit her nostrils, and horror hit her anew when she realized that the beast on top of her was on _fire—_

The flames licked her clothes, and she screamed.

"_Hermione!"_

Hermione felt the horrendous weight thrown off her—and she gasped for breath, rolling over—relief made her dizzy, and she closed her eyes to will it away—why couldn't she stop shaking—

"Moony?" she gasped, thinking she heard his voice.

When she opened her eyes again, there was no Moony, however. She just saw the werewolf take off into the forest, still smoking, a snarling Crookshanks running after him.

"_Hermione—_"

Clinging to Viktor with her life, she stood.

Blood leaked through Viktor's shirt, and she gasped. "You're bleeding! Did h-h-he bite you?"

"No...no...thanks to Professor Lupin, here…"

Hermione whirled around, more relieved than she had ever been to see her favorite professor standing there.

Moony had come to save them.

* * *

That was when Ron saw them.

Hestia Jones was running towards them. And she was matching stride for stride with Professor Snape.

Through the blue forcefield, Ron could hazily see them fighting off the Death Eater, volleying curse after curse, drawing the Death Eater's focus away. But Ron's energy was quickly being used up. The magnitude of the spell he was casting was too great to hold it for long periods of time. Minutes passed as his energy drained. He longed to go join the fight but knew if he did, the girls would be unprotected.

_I have to hold it...I have to keep holding it…_

Face a mask of fury, and definitely looking the worse for wear, Professor Jones' magenta streaks of magic struck the double-wanded already-weakened Death Eater again and again. And Snape's own greenish streaks hit the Death Eater in places Jones could not.

Ron knew the debate behind that mask. Three opponents trying to fight him off was far too great a risk. Hope was kindled in Ron as he saw the hesitance and frustration in the other wizard's steps.

And finally, _finally, _the Death Eater knew he had lost, and disapparated.

Ron's arms fell and the dome shield faded away, as he collapsed to the cobblestones once more, and knew only darkness.

* * *

Moony staggered to a boulder to sit down, looking utterly exhausted from the force of the spell he cast, and from wrestling the burning werewolf off of Hermione. He looked deeply confused and startled at finding a werewolf in broad daylight, much less attacking a student.

"Moony!" Hermione hugged him. "Thank you, professor! I don't know what we would have done if we...i-if you hadn't…"

His arms encircled hers, obviously touched by the gesture, until she let go and backed away to give him space. Moony ran a hand through his light brown hair, his face ashen.

"Are you all right, Hermione? He didn't...he didn't…"

His unasked question hovered in the air, souring it, and Hermione shook her head, thanking Merlin that she remained untouched. Intact. _Unbitten._

"No. We're safe. Both of us. You got here just in time."

Moony sagged, visibly relieved.

"Here, Viktor, let me take care of that wound..." he said, conjuring bandages, and fixing Viktor's arm quickly. Hermione could feel bruises begin to form on her wrists where Greyback pinned her, but thankfully, Viktor's scratch was the worst of it.

"Vhat made that verevolf?" Viktor spoke, unbidden fear leaking out of his voice. Hermione had never heard such a sound come from him before, and it scared her even more than the attempt on their lives.

Hermione's questioning eyes turned to their professor. "It is broad daylight now, and the full moon was two days ago. Professor...why was Greyback transformed today? Has something happened with the werewolves? Are they...becoming stronger?"

Moony closed his eyes and glanced away from her piercing stare.

Viktor gripped Hermione's hand, and she found the pink fuzzy sensation in her brain trickle back in, now that the adrenaline from the danger was ebbing away. Subconsciously, she pulled him closer to her body and sat with him facing Moony.

"That, my dear," Moony started, "Was the Wolflord Potion."

* * *

"_Won-Won!"_

"Ron!"

"Mr. Weasley…_Mr. Weasley…"_

Worried voices met his ears.

Ron's eyelids snapped open. The scowling face of his slimy git-faced professor was emphatically _not _the first thing he wanted to see upon waking.

He gave out a startled yelp, and tried to scramble away, but his body was too weak to obey.

"I told you he wouldn't want to see you first," said Hestia's voice wryly, but he couldn't see her.

A potion was shoved in front of his face.

"Here. Drink this."

A glass vial was forced into his mouth and Ron was made to swallow the vile stuff. It burned going down, and it was only seconds that the Pepper-Up Potion started taking effect and Ron was filled with energy once more.

He picked himself up, eyes wild, looking for whatever the hell just happened.

"You okay, Ron?"

Harry was holding on to his elbow, glasses askew, worry ingrained in his skin.

"Harry? What…"

"I don't know. I just heard the commotion. I was a few streets away. They said it was a Death Eater, but his mask was on and nobody could see who it was. He disapparated when Snape and Jones chased him off. _Merlin, _Ron, I didn't know you could do that!"

Ron leaned heavily on the shorter Harry, feeling exhausted and wobbly, even with the Pepper-Up.

"Harry, where were you?" he asked, his speech still slurring a bit. "Why weren't you...helping...me?"

Guilt sliced through his best friend's eyes, but Ron didn't care. He needed Harry. And Harry wasn't there.

"I'm sorry...I really am...I didn't know…"

"You didn't hear the raucus?" said Ron snidely. "Didn't see my Patronus beg you to come help me? Didn't hear me shouting in pain? I bet you haven't even told Dumbledore about You-Know-Who trying to get to Hermione and me yet, have you? Considering nobody stopped the bloody Death Eater from popping up in the first place, in the middle of the street and trying to off me, I'm guessing not. Or was it you just didn't _care_?"

"_Ron_—"

"I can't even trust you with my life, now can I? What should I be able to trust you with, Harry? Huh?"

Ron refused to look at him, and turned away. If he was being unfair to Harry, he really couldn't care less. _Someone _ought to be mad at 'The Chosen One' when he was supposed to be protecting his best friends and failing abysmally. But no...nobody was ever mad at the Golden Boy. He could do no wrong...

Distrust at Harry gnawed at him, and Ron felt like he was going to be sick. He just wanted to be as far away from Harry as possible.

Harry's protests went unheard, as Ron was helped over to a bench by someone else. The other pair of arms helping him up belonged to their steely-faced Defense professor.

"Merlin, that shield was one of the strongest I've seen in a long time, Mr. Weasley," Jones appraised him. "I am very impressed. It seems to have taken quite a bit of strength. That was very fast thinking on your part. Are you all right? Should we take you to the hospital wing?"

"No," Ron refused. "I'm fine. Don't need any help. I'll just...walk it off."

"Won-Won, let me help you...that was so scary…you were _so _brave..." simpered Lavender, clinging to his arm, and Ron felt better.

He noticed there was a crowd around them, and grew flushed at the attention, at the admiring stares and whispers, and he realized with red ears that several people were gushing about how he had saved the group of girls he and Lavender were with. They were presently immersed in the crowd, gossiping in loud voices about the Death Eater that almost killed them, and how much of a hero Ron was.

Ron gave a shy smile at the piercing stares, but then Harry pointed something out that completely wiped it from his face.

"What _is _that?"

Ron followed Harry's pointed finger to the object that had been thrown at Ron's head.

It was a human skull.

* * *

"_The Wolflord Potion?" _said Hermione, hands flying up to her mouth.

"It's...new. And highly illegal. I've only just heard about it. It is very high in demand among the more... unsavory...werewolves. Apparently it is like the Wolfsbane but in reverse. Instead of allowing them to keep their mind...it allows them to keep their werewolf forms. As a sort of lingering effect from the full moon. It only lasts a few days afterwards, however it seems to...morph their minds even moreso than living in the wild as a wolf pack has already done to them." Moony looked fearful. Then he remembered himself, and dusted his robes off.

"But, I'm sorry, Hermione, I cannot leave Greyback as he is on the run like this. I shudder to think of the dangers he may cause. The fact that he just stumbled on the pair of you...Merlin knows what he could have done...but I have to go track him down. Viktor, take her back to the castle. Make haste. Quickly now!"

Moony ran off into the woods, casting a tracking spell as he went.

Eyes wide, Hermione and Viktor held tightly onto each other's hands. Viktor summoned their shoes and picnic items to his arms as they hurried down the dark, forested path to the castle.

For a minute they walked quickly in silence, until Hermione couldn't take it anymore. The horror of the Wolflord Potion sickened her. Not only that, but the fog in her brain grew thick and moist and rather pink, and it was so hard to concentrate…

"Viktor...Viktor, stop, please," she said quietly into the growing darkness. "My feet are bleeding. I need to put my shoes on. Please, we need to stop and rest—"

"_No," _said Viktor harshly, pulling her along. "I need to get you to safety. Come, we must hurry. Ve are still a mile avay…"

"Viktor, _stop_!"

Hermione protested and wrenched her hand out of his grip, snatching her boots from him before he could grab her again.

He sighed in irritation and looked around the dirt pathway furtively, before admitting defeat and pulling his own shoes on.

They were deeper into the forest now, and the smaller path they were on still had hundreds of yards of twisting every which way until it joined up with the major road that led from Hogsmeade to the boar-flanked gates. Dusk had long since set in, and the first glimmers of starlight were making their way across the sky.

Under the canopy of the trees however, very little of that light came through.

And so it was only blackness that could be seen when a large branch cracked in the forest.

Hermione's and Viktor's heads snapped up.

Another loud _crack. _

Then another.

Someone was following them.

* * *

Ron jerked back.

The skull was staring up at him by his feet. Everyone around them was muttering and whispering under their breaths, watching as Harry bent down to pick up the nasty thing. Lavender shrieked and scooted back, but Ron got closer.

"Look—there's something in its mouth—"

With trembling fingers, he reached in and grabbed the long, slender stick out of the skull's jaws. He pulled it out.

It was a wand.

No...it was _Hermione's _wand.

"What the hell?" he said in shock.

"She said….she couldn't find…" Harry whispered.

"She didn't misplace it," said Ron with gritted teeth, the implications of what was happening hitting home. "Someone _stole _it…"

"But how? It would have been with her..._on_ her…the whole time. All morning. They would have had to have gotten extremely close to her..."

Ron sucked his breath through his teeth. Rage beyond anything he had known before hit him.

"Malfoy did," he hissed. "When we were in the tunnel. She fell against him, didn't she...he tripped her on purpose...made her fall...and he grabbed it when he pushed her away...that slimy, slug _bas_—"

"While I don't disagree with you, Ron, please be aware of listening ears," said Jones, coming back to them, voice lowered. "You wouldn't want it getting round that Death Eaters had stolen something as important as a wand from Hermione."

"Hang on...there's something else in here…" said Harry, peering into the depths of its mouth.

Ron looked and saw it too. Something cream-colored was wedged in between teeth. Harry wrenched it out.

It was a scroll.

With growing dread, Ron unfurled it and the two boys read the markings therein:

**DIE, BLOOD TRAITOR!**

**WE'LL HUNT YOU**

**TILL YOUR HEAD ROLLS **

**ON HALLOWEEN**

* * *

Hermione drew in a sharp breath.

_Where's my wand? I need Viktor...no. Wand. I need my…_

_Where's Viktor?_

Her thoughts were jumbling up in her head. Fear for the unknown presence in the woods that they couldn't see. Her urgency to have her wand. But mostly, just how much she wanted to forget both those items and wrap her arms and legs around Viktor and just...kiss him. Lots.

Crookshanks streaked through the woods, an orange blur amongst the black. There was a grunt and a muffled yowl.

"Crookshanks?" Hermione called out. She couldn't see anything, but her cat did not come back.

"Her-mione...I don't think…"

His wand was out, held up guardedly, lighting its way into the growing darkness, but still something eluded them.

Concerned, Hermione drew back into Viktor, her back pressed up against his chest.

A snarl...then a roar…

"What _is_ that?" she gasped. "Viktor…"

The pink fuzzy cloud in her brain tried to encircle her once more, and his name kept repeating with fervor in her mind. With all the strength she could muster, Hermione pushed it back and tried to concentrate on the fear right in front of them.

The fear which was a fleeting dark shape in the blackness before them. She could hardly make it out. Was it Greyback? Or another werewolf? After all...they came in packs…

She could faintly see her cat's golden form streak around the beast as they fought…

A mrowl of pain.

"_Crookshanks!" _Her hand clenched Viktor's free hand. "Crookshanks, get back here!"

She stepped forward, trying to go and retrieve him from the...the..._thing..._but Viktor's hand clamped down around her wrist, refusing her.

"No, Her-mione. I must to keep you safe—"

Fear for her pet made Hermione nauseous. But she obeyed.

Viktor held his wand higher and cast a light in front of them, trying to peer into the darkness. His arm pulled her closer to him, and she shivered in apprehension, hugging his masculine arm closer to her chest.

But they didn't hear any more noises after that. Whatever it was left. Perhaps Crookshanks was chasing it off, because she didn't see Crookshanks after that too.

She bit her lip in worry, leaning out into the darkness to look back the way they came, hoping to see Crookshanks trotting back.

"Crookshanks!" she called out into the unanswering gloom.

No cat, half-Kneazle or otherwise, appeared.

Viktor pulled her the rest of the way to the main road, their feet on the cobblestones making loud sounds in the solitude.

"Come…" he said nervously, looking around them, lit wand held aloft. "We must to be getting back. It isn't safe…"

She took one last look into the darkening gloom for her cat. Reluctantly, she followed her Viktor back to the castle, clutching his hand tightly.

The overwhelming pink cloud in her brain just intensified as they walked to the castle.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I really am sorry this update took so long! I wasn't happy with the original draft, and kept trying to make it better for you. **

**That, and life just gets in the way. We found out our baby needs another surgery, so that's taken quite a bit of my time. **

**In any case, here's the final draft and I hope you like it! This chapter came up to around 8000 word count originally, so I ended up splitting it up into two chapters. Next up is "Her Mr. Rochester"!**


	22. Her Mr Rochester

**Author's Note: **

**The surgery went well! Cuddling my baby now and writing more scenes for these next few chapters.**

**Cheers!**

* * *

**HER MR. ROCHESTER**

The next hour was a harrowing one for Harry and Ron both.

The boys gave the skull to the adults, and witnesses around them described what happened after the skull cracked...well, Ron's skull.

Because of the Death Eater, everyone in the village was put on high alert and a town-wide curfew was put in place. The Hogwarts students were all rounded up and escorted back to the castle, just an hour earlier than normal.

Professor Jones helped guide them and the other students back to the castle, along with Kingsley Shacklebolt and another Auror. Harry peered through the crowds, trying to find Hermione to give her the wand back, but she wasn't to be found.

"You don't think something happened, do you?" said Ron, fear growing ever-present.

Harry could tell that Ron's worry for Hermione was enough to clear out any residual anger he had for Harry abandoning him. The fear and the adrenaline from the situation died down and Ron was much more back to his old self.

Harry shook his head and used the consoling voice he used all too much when he was trying not to worry. "She's with Krum. She'll be okay. We'll just meet her back up at the castle. She's probably already there, you know. Worrying herself sick over what happened to you, I'll bet."

Ron nodded, looking less queasy, and Harry hoped he was all right.

"Do you need anything?" he asked.

Ron shook his head, but his footsteps were much slower than before, and his face far whiter. The energy it took to take such a long walk after what he had been through was clearly exhausting him.

They got to the Great Hall for dinner with no other mishap though, and the hullabaloo continued. Three times the amount of Order members and Aurors were staking the place out, no doubt akin to the death threat Ron had got.

Ron in particular was being shadowed by two surly Auror guards, which everyone took noticed. Harry was just relieved, as they sat down to eat their food, that they stayed near the double doors, just looking into the room.

"It's all for nothing though," muttered Ron, staring out the windows in the Great Hall. "Damn bastard is long gone."

Savagely, his knife sliced through his roast, and he shoved the not-so-small piece in his mouth.

Ginny watched him, revolted, and he made a face at her.

Harry was more forgiving, however. Watching Ron hold up that shield for that long...it was impressive, really. And it seemed to take a lot out of him. Harry kept watching him for signs of fainting again, but getting some food in him seemed to help Ron more than anything.

At least it was one comfort. Hermione still was off with Krum. And Dumbleodre wasn't there for Harry to talk to him about Ron and Hermione. And none of the teachers were even at the staff table.

Harry stared up at the missing head teachers in dismay. They were all gone. All the teachers he could have told about Voldemort being after his best friends. Even Snape, the bloody git.

_Damn, why didn't I tell Dumbledore when I had the chance?_

And now that the double-wanded Death Eater had made another appearance, delivering a death threat no less to up the ante, Harry feared what he would do next. Ron was now in twice the amount of danger he'd been in before.

Before Harry could lose himself in the worry again, however, something halted him in his tracks.

A large, half-giant something.

Hagrid strode into the Great Hall, booming, "Quiet! Quiet! I have some news! Summat's happened!

The talking of hundreds of students slowed down, but not enough.

"QUUUIIIIET!"

* * *

Finally, they were safe...safe inside the castle wards. Safe on the grounds. Safe within the gates.

Hermione and Viktor slowed down, relieved beyond measure, and Hermione could see the warmly-lit windows from the Great Hall shining forth like a beacon, drawing them near.

"I think ve are safe now. Are you okay? Her-mione? Are you all right?" he said, voice deep in worry, as they walked.

Turning to face him, Hermione was taken aback by how close their faces were, almost touching. Her body was flush up against his and a fire was burning so fiercely in her right now…

The concern for her on his face was evident in his eyes, and all she wanted to do right now was to kiss him.

_Kiss him...yes...kiss him..._

"Yes...thank you…" she breathed, eyes flitting from his eyes to his mouth.

Viktor leaned in...his mouth almost touching hers...but at the very last second, she lost her courage and turned her head to the side, where he kissed her cheek.

Embarrased, Hermione's cheeks flamed red. "I'm sorry, it's just…"

"No, it's my fault," he apologized.

Seeing her discomfort, Viktor sought to relieve her.

"I see you got my gift for your birthday," he said, eyeing her necklace.

She nodded, and smiled. "It's lovely. I never got to thank you for it."

"It vos nothing," he said, waiving her compliment aside, and reaching over to finger her necklace. "It looks...most admirable on you..."

"It—it wasn't nothing. It makes me wonder what I can give you for your birthday in November," she babbled, keen on transferring the subject back to him.

He smiled at her, dark eyes earnest. "I know vot I vant..."

She reddened under his stare, feeling his fingertips graze against her breastbone as he picked up the chain. She was suddenly aware of a tear in her blouse. Greyback must have snagged it with his claws, and she saw how low her button-up blouse went. It was now nowhere near going up to the collar like her dad always told her to keep it.

And then Viktor's gaze hardened looking down at her chest, and she realized with horror what he could now see.

"But vot is—"

"No, _don't—_"

His fingers made her shirt go down farther over her breastbone, exposing the skin between her breasts.

Hermione's face flushed red and she shrunk back under his grasp and piercing eyes, which were suddenly dark—

"Vot happened to you, Her-mione?" Viktor asked, aghast.

Hermione drew back from the man in front of her in alarm.

She held up the top of her blouse with her hands, embarrassment and self-consciousness invading her, as she tried to cover up her horrible scar.

With trepidation, she looked up at Viktor.

"It happened when D-Dolohov cursed me. In June. I don't feel the after-effects anymore, but the Healers all say that scar won't go away. Please, Viktor, just let it go. It's n-nothing," she stumbled over her words, very aware of his piercing stare.

The hurt in his eyes was indisputable.

"I vould never judge you for something like that, Her-mione," Viktor said, stepping closer, hands up in surrender. "That man is horrible for doing that to you...you must haff been very brave…and you are beautiful still..."

Hermione's eyes widened as he leaned in again. They were stopped under an archway in the courtyard, hidden from the Great Hall windows. Her desire for him kept growing and growing, and she found she could no longer restrain the warm, fuzzily pink aura clouding her brain…

Nor did she want to.

Her lips pressed against his in earnest this time. No longer blushing, no longer feeling embarassed that she was giving in to his attraction. Kissing back with a fervor that went beyond hers, Viktor nevertheless was considerate. In his kissing, in his holding her, how his arms circled up and around her, his fingers exploring, his tongue pressing, pulling her in closer and closer.

Hermione finally broke away from Viktor's kiss.

She was more than ready for that conversation they needed to have. "Viktor—I need to tell you something—"

He nodded, brushing her small rejection aside. "I believe you are right."

"Yes," she said, looking up and smoothing her skirt down. "You're a teacher here now."

"Actually...I'm referee. No 'professor' in front of my name. So the same rules don't quite apply. You are of age, for one thing. And...you are not my student," he said, then hurried on once he realized how that sounded. "But please do not mistake my advances as calculated ones. The vine has gone to my head, I am thinking. I do not vish to make you uncomfortable—"

"You don't!" she said. "It's me. It's just that I..."

Around them, raindrops began falling from roof tile to cobblestone, leaving their heads untouched. The sun had set, it was rather dark. It was then that she noticed how late it was.

"Oh, I really do need to be getting back," she said, turning away. The pink aura whined in her ears at the loss of his close contact. "This was a mistake..."

"Don't," he said, hurt. His arm reached out and grabbed her wrist, jerking her backwards. "Please...I must to tell you how much you are in meaning to me. I came to Hogvarts for you and I must know vot I am to you?"

Hermione bit her lip, and turned around to face him. "Oh, Viktor, you are a great friend. You're kind and you're loyal and you're such a gentleman, but..."

"There...is another?" He guessed.

"Yes," she said, wincing. "There's someone else."

His face darkened. "Veasley?"

The jealousy in his voice was palpable. Hermione turned from him, guilty. But she couldn't end the conversation this way.

"Look, it doesn't matter," she said, turning back to him. "The point is, I can't develop a relationship with you when I have feelings for someone else. It wouldn't be fair to you, nor would it be fair to him."

He studied her. "And he is in knowing of your feelings?"

She drew in a breath, but couldn't tear her eyes away from his. Slowly, she sighed and shook her head.

"Tell him," Viktor implored. "Please. And if he feels the same vay, I vill back avay."

"And...if he doesn't?" she asked him.

He looked down at her. "Then there is reason for you and me. If you vill still haff me..."

She smiled, and kissed his cheek. "Oh, thank you, Viktor! I am sorry...really..."

Viktor held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. They held each other for a moment longer, until he broke away.

He grabbed her hand and they sloshed through the rainy puddles until they got to Hogwarts' doors. They could both see through the higher windows that the entire school was sitting down to dinner, carefree conversations splitting the night, unaware that there was something going on outside at all.

"Thank you, Viktor," she said again as they paused at the bottom of the outside steps. "Thank you for being so great and understanding. And for saving me."

He held her hand briefly. "It vas my pleasure. You vill make him very happy."

On impulse, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek that had nothing to do with the dim pink cloud in her brain that was fading away.

The pink cloud…

Hermione's eyes widened as she finally realized what it meant. As the fuzziness left her brain, Hermione was suddenly filled with clarity.

It was a love potion.

She had been drugged.

Immediately, Hermione started pulling away, but Viktor held her fast, eyes wide and innocent, confused.

"Her-mione, vhat—"

"You _drugged _me. That elfwine...there was a love potion in it...that was why...why…"

"Vhat? A love potion? Her-mione, I vould never…"

"Then where did you get that bottle from?" Hermione hissed, more aghast than she was furious.

"D-Draco Malfoy. He gave it to me as a gift. I-I didn't know...the seal vasn't broken on it, I svear. He sent it to me as a gift. I didn't know…"

Hermione knew at once he was telling the truth, and she remembered all too well the spilt Amortentia that drenched her in Potions class...the secretive look in Malfoy's eye as he hid some…

Did he steal her wand too?

The worry in Viktor's eyes broke through her thoughts of the vile Slytherin and immediately she felt remorse for her actions in accusing Viktor...especially after he saved her life.

"Sshh, it's all right, Viktor...I believe you...I'm sorry, that was rather cruel of me to accuse you like that when I know you could never do something as horrendous as that…"

He nodded, but the hurt there still remained, and Hermione felt horrible.

She smiled sadly. "I really am sorry. Please forgive me? It must have been Malfoy."

Viktor nodded, forgiveness already in his eyes. "I truly am sorry for the part I haff played, my Her-mione. Even if it vas unknovingly. How can I make it up to you?"

Hermione's finger pressed on his lips to shush him. She simply said, "Just tell me good night."

Viktor grinned, a boyish, youthful smile, and Hermione fell in love with him a little bit more. "Good night, my Her-mione."

"Good night...Viktor."

Hermione started up the stairs and put a hand on one of the large, iron-wrought doorknobs. She turned around and saw that Viktor was about to walk back down the path and go to his cabin when he turned around as well.

"Her-mione?" he called.

"Yes?" she said, and paused in opening the door.

"I...haff been to many places for Quidditch. I haff played against many countries, and haff done many things. I haff even met many vitches, the great beauties of these countries their men boast about. And yet..." he stopped. "You, my Her-mione, are the most beautiful of them all."

Hermione stared at him speechlessly as he turned around and walked down the path, into the mist, into the rain, and into the darkness.

"_What am I doing?"_ she whispered.

How long she stood there, she didn't know. All she knew was that Ronald Weasley, her best friend and schoolgirl crush for three years, was standing just inside the door, ignorantly unaware of her feelings. She had no idea if he could ever love her back—_would _ever love her back, even—while the man that had just confessed his love for her, who had just told her he would be there for her even if she were to love another, who had even gone so far as to say that she—Hermione Jean Granger, Miss Know-It-All—was the most beautiful witch in the world...had just walked away.

Her heart was completely torn in two.

_I could love Viktor, _she realized for the first time. _I really could love him. I could open my heart to him, I could have a future with him, I could become the wife of an international Quidditch player, I could become a part of his family..._

But she cringed at the word 'family', seeing instead the Weasleys with all their quirks and red hair and children. She just couldn't imagine not seeing them every summer, not visiting the Burrow every Christmas, not getting presents from them. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley wanted her to be a part of their family so much...she was, in many ways, Mrs. Weasley's second daughter and Ginny's older sister. Even when she had first met them she knew that she always wanted to be a part of their family. Could she give that away?

_I have to tell Ron. I have to. I have to know whether there can ever be anything between us. Or everything I'm feeling for Viktor will be uselessly thrown away._

She took a deep breath, and opened the door.

The atmosphere in the entrance hall was so entirely different than outside that she was glad she took that extra breath. Her eyes blinked to get used to the bright lights and her ears dimmed a bit to get used to the sound.

At once, a rush of noise greeted her as dozens of students flooded out of the Great Hall. Many teenagers were tossing a Fanged Frisbee to each other, another group were all singing lustily at the tops of their lungs, something very reminiscent of "Weasley is our King". She furrowed her brow.

"_Hermione_—there you are—!"

Harry nudged his way towards her. He was grinning. "Did you hear what happened? Oh, but you'll never guess what happened to him in Hogsmeade, Hermione...Ron was attacked—"

"He was _what_—" she gasped.

"But he's all right! He cast a very good shield—dunno how, I've never even heard of it—" Harry said, and then he told her all about it as quickly and loudly as he could in the din. "Oh, and here is your wand!"

Hermione was dumbfounded. Worry for Ron was ever-present, and a growing feeling of dread gnawed the pit of her stomach. She frantically searched for him in the growing crowd.

Just then, Ginny came over, and Hermione hugged her tight, grateful for her girl best friend.

"I can't believe it!" said Hermione. "I'm so glad your brother is all right, Ginny. But wait till I tell you two what happened—"

"Hermione, why'd you missed dinner?" said Harry.

"Yeah, where were you?" asked Ginny, suspiciously. "Oh, have you heard the news?"

"What news?" she said, confused, searching the crowd for Ron. Gratefully she pocketed her missing wand, determined not to ever let it get stolen again. Now to just find Crookshanks...

"Hagrid's just told us," Harry said, grinning. "There was a battle at Gringotts—Death Eaters tried to break in. But they were all caught! Mr. Weasley was doing some shopping, and he—well, he got them all! _Ten Death Eaters_ sent to Azkaban because of him!"

"But—Harry, that's wonderful!" she said, grinning.

"I know...Ron's ecstatic, he's over there now, telling everyone how his dad did it..."

Harry kept talking, but Hermione was no longer paying attention. She had caught sight of Ron. He was at the bottom of the staircase, talking jovially to a number of seventh-years. She started pushing her way towards him, eyes glued to him.

She was going to do it—now was the best time—

But in front of her eyes, Hermione saw Lavender Brown got there first.

Instead of Hermione, it was Lavender who threw her arms around Ron. He was all too ecstatic. Their lips found each other's and, right in front of Hermione, they started making out.

At once, catcalls and wolf-howls split the air as every eye in the entrance hall turned to look. Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away as Ron's hands inched lower down Lavender's back, as her roommate tousled her best friend's hair in her effort to obtain more of him in that one kiss. Their bodies shoved against each other, their lips locked, eyes closed—

And then, of a sudden, Ron opened his eyes and paused, mid-kiss, as he saw Hermione behind Lavender.

For one heart-breaking second, they stared at each other. Hermione couldn't read the look she saw in his eyes, but also could not mask the stunned expression she had in her own.

Before either of them could react, Colin Creevey walked up right next to her, raised his famed Muggle camera and took a picture of Ron and Lavender. The flash went off, Ron blinked, and Hermione came to her senses.

The flash kept going off in her mind's eye as she turned around and fled.

The crowd proved to be no obstacle for her this time—they simply parted.

She couldn't hear the whistles and jeering and shouting anymore.

She could barely make out Ginny's white face or her gasp as she saw Hermione running away.

She hardly heard Harry say her name as she moved past him.

She simply opened the great double doors, and took off into the growing darkness.

Out into the night.

* * *

Harry would never in his life forget the look of heartwrenching grief that he saw on Hermione's face as she fled past him.

"Oh _no_," he heard Ginny whisper in dismay. "How could he do that to her…"

"He didn't see her," said Harry, trying to stand up for his best friend. "He didn't know."

"She was going to tell him, wasn't she?"

"Yes...I do believe she was…"

"Well, shite."

* * *

Hermione ran through the pouring rain, down the path she had just come up. She thought she would be hurt, seeing that kiss. She thought she would be furious or crying or devastated. But the rain falling on her didn't feel cold at all.

She was numb. And one name kept echoing in her mind.

_Viktor._

She saw him long before she realized it was him. He was walking back to his cabin beside the beech tree that she now thought of as hers, Harry's, and Ron's. His shoulders were hunched over, his dark cloak hung on him limply, his hands were shoved in his pockets...and he was staring down at the puddles beneath his feet as the raindrops hit the surface of the water. He cut quite the miserable, daunting figure...

But to her, he was beautiful.

He was her Heathcliff, her Mr. Rochester, her Mr. Darcy.

Her Viktor.

"Viktor!" she cried, running up to him. "_Viktor!"_

He turned around suddenly, and saw her standing there under the beech tree, sopping wet.

"Her-mione! But it is raining—you're shivering—"

"Did you mean it?" she asked, looking up at him. "Did you mean what you said?"

There was a pause as he slowly walked towards her. "I meant every vord," he said strongly.

"Then, yes," she whispered.

His dark eyes slowly glimmered as he realized what she meant.

"Are you sure?" he said.

"Y-yes," she said, faltering as Ron's eyes suddenly appeared in front of her. She replaced this image with the one she now vividly had of him kissing Lavender. Her voice grew stronger. "I'm positive."

Viktor smiled, and took her face in his hands, a look she couldn't place in his black eyes. "I vill make you very happy, my Her-mione. You vill not regret this."

She nodded. "I know."

And so it was that Viktor Krum lowered his head to kiss her. His lips were soft and soundless, reminding her very much of the quiet rain falling on them now, and she melted in his arms.

He could feel her embracing him, giving in to him, igniting this sudden burst of passion within them. And all at once, his lips opened up, his tongue entered her mouth, their bodies started touching, their skin started tingling...

And Hermione Jean Granger was not afraid.


	23. Seducing Seekers

**Author's Note:**

**Surgeries, Pandemics, and Earthquakes, oh my!**

**And no, I am not talking about what may or may not happen in this chapter. Y'all understand what's going on in the world right now. So stay safe! Be glad you are not waking up to your house possibly falling down around you. Be glad that you are alive, and safe, and get to read another delicious chapter of magical teenage drama!**

**And review. **

* * *

**SEDUCING SEEKERS**

By the next day, the school was flooded with rumors.

Some were about the Death Eater in Hogsmeade, and what he had to do with Ron. The way some were telling it, he targeted everyone on that street and sent two dozen to St. Mungo's. The way Lavender and her minions were telling it, he tried to kidnap the girls but instead Ronald Weasley, great Quidditch Keeper, fought him off after a deathly battle and sent him running out of town.

Other rumors were about Hermione and Krum (several people saw them kissing by the beech tree last night). Even more were fixated on Ron and Lavender (the entire school saw them together in the entrance hall). And of course, any left-over rumors were no doubt about the supposed love triangle between Lupin, Jones, and Snape that the Weasley twins started the other day.

As it was, a chord was struck at Hogwarts by the love and lies that abounded.

Not for the first time, Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other; and to make matters worse, it soon became quite evident that neither of them were sleeping.

Harry could tell that the Death Eater attack had a bad effect on Ron. More than once, Harry had been woken to Ron's shouts as he started having more frequent nightmares. Guilt tore into Harry. He should have been there to stop it from happening. He should have been there to help Ron.

And the fact that he'd never even gotten Ron's Patronus…

Harry paled, thinking of what could have happened if Jones and Snape hadn't shown up.

He had been shopping with Ginny at the time. They were at Zonko's again, and it was really loud, and he hadn't...how could he have known that such an attack was happening across the town? It wasn't till they were leaving the store that they even heard the screaming...and by the time they had got there, Ron's shield was flickering and then faded, and Ron was knocked out in the street.

But still Harry couldn't get over the guilt. Voldemort was after Ron because of him. It was all his fault. Ron had almost died because of him. And now...Ron kept waking up shouting from nightmares because of him.

And it was killing Harry.

And so he had resorted to slipping some Dreamless Sleep potion into Ron's pumpkin juice when he wasn't looking just so the both of them could finally get some sleep.

Hermione as well didn't look quite like herself, although Harry didn't know if it was worry for Ron...or something else. He just couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something from him.

And he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Harry had tried to talk to Hermione several times about Krum—he didn't like the fact that she was dating him if only because they knew so little about him, and she had now taken to spending all of her free time with him. They could often be seen in the library together, eating breakfast and lunch together, walking to classes together, or sitting in the Quidditch stands together.

If Harry thought that was torture, he knew he had no idea what Ron was going through...even if Ron had no idea himself.

To get back at Hermione, Ron was spending all of his time with Lavender. They could be seen every night cuddled on a couch in a snog-fest, or making eyes at each other during class—the two places Hermione could never take Krum to. And so, she had taken to avoiding every spot Ron and Lavender frequented…

Which was more than half the castle, much to Harry's horror.

Then there were the few times in which Ron, as well, had to be subject to Krum and Hermione making eyes. There was once in particular when the Gryffindor Quidditch team had gone out to the pitch for practice that Harry and Ron saw Hermione and Krum together in the vacant stands. Ron had turned right back around and marched straight back to the castle, skipping practice.

_At least Hermione and Krum aren't nearly so public with their affections as Ron and Lavender are, or that scene could have turned out loads worse,_ Harry thought glumly.

What made matters worse was that Harry and Ginny in particular knew what had happened. Hermione as good as told Ginny that her date with Krum in Hogsmeade was going to be about rejecting him. And something no doubt happened, because when Hermione came into the entrance hall that night, she had eyes only for Ron. Just seeing that look on her face, Harry knew that she would very well have kissed Ron right there, if it hadn't been for Lavender.

_Lavender_.

The new bane of Harry's existence.

Ron didn't spend nearly as much time with Harry as he used to, but when he did, Lavender always seemed to accompany him. Harry could only stand so much of her shrieking and giggling and squealing "_Won-Won!" _like Ron was a Chinese delicacy.

He knew now why Hermione called Lavender and Parvati the Twittering Twins—but the way Lavender had taken to acting lately, she didn't even need Parvati to earn the title.

_I take it back, _Harry thought gloomily after a week of this. _I sincerely take back what I said. Ron and Hermione getting together could never be this bad. Even if Hermione suddenly sprouted a pig's tail and took to squealing like Lavender, it could never be this bad._

"It's gut-wrenching," said Ginny, watching Ron and Lavender a few seats away from the teacher's head table as they sat down for lunch one day. She turned her head towards the doors, where Hermione had just come in with Krum. "Both of them."

"But I thought you wanted Hermione to have a fling with Viktor Krum, Ginny," Luna said, coming over. "You said so in Hogsmeade."

"Of course I did!" Ginny retorted, as Harry choked on his sausage. "But that was before Ron discovered his tongue inside of Lavender Brown's mouth."

"You—you _wanted—_?" said Harry.

"Well, it's not like Ron would have noticed her otherwise," Ginny snapped, then ranted on. "The only times he ever does is when she's with Krum or talking about him. I thought that it would..._stir him to action_, so to speak. But now she's seen him licking Lavender, and now he knows she's kissing Krum...there's no hope for them, I swear. I'd bet Pigwidgeon that she's only doing it to make him jealous, and he's only doing it to make _her _jealous, which means there's no stopping them and they're going to keep snogging until they choke to death from all that phlegm!"

Harry had to hand it to her for the graphic images she conjured in his mind.

"You know that's revolting, don't you?" he said, wincing.

"That's my _point_!" she snapped.

* * *

If Harry thought things were going to be getting better between his two best friends, he was dead wrong.

"So did you hear, Harry?" said Ron one day, as they tried to make music come out of their wands in Double Charms. (Lavender was blessedly absent from class that day.)

"Remember, you must hear the song in your head for it come out!" Flitwick cried at the front of the room.

Hermione was two rows away from them. Harry could see her straining her ears to hear their conversation.

"Currently, I'm not hearing anything, sorry. How in Merlin's name was Dumbledore able to do this in first year?" said Harry, concentrating hard on Hogwarts' theme song.

"My dad!" Ron continued. "Ever since he captured all those Death Eaters! Minister Bones offered him a new position, and he accepted!"

"Ron, that's great! What's he doing now?"

"Well, Perkins is in charge of his old office, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Now Dad's in the top floor, one of the head honchos in the Muggle-born Ministration office. He works with the security for the Muggle-born families, as they don't have magical home protection like wizards do. Mum says he's in heaven—talks with the Muggles every day and assigns them bodyguards and home enchantments and whatnot. Maybe now he can learn how one of those arrow-playing doohickeys can get off the ground without magic!" said Ron.

It took Harry a minute to realize he was talking about airplanes. "That's really neat. Is the pay going to be better?"

Ron reddened a bit. "Yeah, actually. It's about twice as much. Dad's talking about putting it all in savings, though...we don't know how bad the war's going to get..."

Beside them, Harry and Ron could hear Padma and Parvati gossipping about Krum. While the rest of the class's wands were still wailing, Hermione had a smile on her face as her own wand whistled "You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me".

Ron's ears grew red, and to drown out the girls' conversation he dedicated the rest of the lesson to telling Harry exactly how Mr. Weasley captured the ten Death Eaters at Gringotts.

Apparently, Mr. Weasley had gone to see Fred and George before going to Gringotts. They had just showed him their new Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and gave him some. When the Death Eaters showed themselves at Gringotts five minutes before closing, he had been the only other customer. Someone shot a spell that knocked him to the floor, sending the bag of powder flying—the room was dark in an instant.

"He couldn't see anything, right? There were goblins all over the place—he couldn't send a spell anywhere for fear of hitting them. That's when he remembered, he'd been the only customer, right? The goblins only came up to his waist, which meant that if he shot a spell anywhere above four feet, he'd hit a Death Eater!" Ron explained excitedly. "So while these ugly, nasty guys are all stumbling around—the Death Eaters, I mean, not the goblins—Dad gets up and shoots this awesome spell in an arc that covers the entire room. They were completely stuck! By the time the Aurors got there, he'd already got their wands and incapacitated them! Although, those ugly midgets were really rather peeved—the goblins, I mean, not the Death Eaters—but the Death Eaters were completely caught in it!"

"Wicked! Like a fly in a spider's web?" said Harry.

Ron shuddered, and Harry quickly realized his poor comparison. Ron's wand, sprouting out a horrible screeching like a banshee, gave a sudden scream that made the entire class clamp their hands over their ears.

"_No, _Harry," said Ron fervently. "Not like a spider. Just..._no_. But the best part is—that spell he used isn't an offensive spell at all!"

"Wait...what?" said Harry.

Flitwick dismissed them and they got up to leave.

Hermione, filling her bag with books a row behind them, answered for him. "It's just an enchantment that puts up this magical wall where you cast it, Harry. Usually, it's supposed to go vertically, or even in a dome around a house, but Mr. Weasley shot it straight out, so it was level with the floor. The magic is its own force-field and it spreads out until it hooks up with another force-field or with a tangible boundary—like the walls of the room he was in—which reminds me, Ron, however did you hear about that forcefield spell you used against that Death Eater?"

Ron tried to avoid her with dignity; but this was rather hard to do as Ron's wand was screeching the entire time—he couldn't get it to stop.

"Were we talking to you?" said Ron nastily, turning on her. "Tell me, Hermione, does 'friends with benefits' only apply to Krum? Because if not, I'd just love to step in line—"

Hermione turned bright pink. "And why is that, Ron? Is it because I'm going out with an international star while you had to stoop so low that you ended up with the school's tart? Do you two work out a schedule so that she can still be shared with all the other boys she's gallivanting around with? Or do you actually think that you're enough for her?" she snapped.

The conversation about Mr. Weasley was left in the lurch as they both rounded on each other.

If Harry could have melted into the floor and disappeared forever, he would have.

His only consolation was that the Charms classroom was now empty except for them, leaving nobody but him to witness the catastrophe unfold. And no one to hear their biting words and Ron's horribly screechy wand besides Harry.

Ron was completely livid, Hermione was furious, and they were both looking to injure.

Ron's look soured. "What about you? _Vicky's _gone out with witches far better than you. He's got the pick of the harem! If I were you, I'd be more worried about what he's really after, because I doubt you're it!"

Hermione's hand clutching her bookbag shook. Disdaining to respond to Ron's snide comment, she cast one last withering look at him before turning to Harry.

"I need to ask you something, Harry. Are you coming?" she said.

Harry looked from Hermione to Ron, trying to determine which of them he wanted to anger more.

Ron decided to choose for him, however.

"I have an idea," Ron sneered. "Since you seem to like seducing Seekers so much, why don't you go find a different Quidditch player to shag? _Harry's_ busy!"

It was a mark of how such good friends they've been the past six years that his words shocked and injured Harry and Hermione so much.

Harry reddened. Hermione glared tear-filled daggers at Ron. Then abruptly she turned around, bag dropping to the floor, and ran out of the empty classroom, slamming the door behind her with a bang_._

Harry stared at Ron in shock, but Ron continued their former conversation as if nothing had happened.

"_Anyway._ That's why they wanted to put him in a department that had something to do with enchantments—he's really good at them. Well, that and he gets along famously with Muggles. You've seen our house, right? He and Mum've just built floor after floor onto the three-room cottage they first moved into after they were married. That's why it looks like that leaning tower in Italy—the one those wizards have a tough time getting not to fall over. It's only because of Dad's enchantments around the house and yard that it stays up," said Ron.

"You _are _an idiot!" Harry suddenly said, disgusted.

Deciding that Hermione's need was much greater than Ron's, he picked up Hermione's forgotten bag off the floor and took off after her, leaving Ron fuming behind him.

As he tried to find her, Harry's mind spun. Ron's words came back to him. "_Why don't you go find a different Quidditch player to shag? Harry's busy!"_

It seemed...wrong, somehow. The thought of him and Hermione. Doing..._that_. Not that he didn't care for her enough...if anything, he cared for her too much to even think of going out with her. Their relationship was stronger than that...to merely be boyfriend and girlfriend...they were much closer...like siblings, almost...

_She's like a sister to me...I care for her deeply, I do...and if I do end up with someone, there are still going to be things I'd only go to Hermione for. We've been through too much for me not to. But for anyone to think that we're...that we've… _

_For _Ron _to think that..._

It wasn't that absurd an idea, he realized. He was remarkably close to Hermione...far closer than he'd been to Cho Chang, even. And even Cho had thought there was something going on between him and Hermione. So had Rita Skeeter in fourth year..._and _Mrs. Weasley..._and _Dumbledore...

This definitely wasn't the first time this had cropped up. But for _Ron_ to think it...

_Certainly he knows how I feel about her? I couldn't ever end up with her...it wouldn't be right...she's always belonged to...well..._Ron, _in a way..._

But did Ron know that?

It took twenty minutes before Harry found Hermione in one of the dozens of Hogwarts girls' bathrooms, and another ten minutes to coax her out of the bathroom and into a private alcove in an unused corridor; and then she kept sobbing into his shoulder about Ron, making Harry quite uncomfortable.

Finally though, her sobs died down and they just sat together, white-shirted backs against the paneled wall, one pair of tan pants stretched out and one pair of pleated skirt-topped gray tights crossed in comfortable silence. Just talking, and totally sloughing their next class.

"It's not just Ron, Harry," Hermione sobbed. "Though he's being a right foul git. I haven't been sleeping. I keep...having nightmares about...a-about...well...anyway, plus I am worried to death about Crookshanks. The last time I saw him was Hogsmeade trip, when he chased away a wer...I mean...some sort of animal in the forest while Viktor and I were picnicing. I haven't seen him since. I'm so _worried _for him…"

"Wait, what about that special collar you got him? Don't you just say a spell or something and you can find him on a map?"

"But I've tried that already!" Hermione's voice rose. "I-I looked at my tablet to find him the other day and, and I saw his blinking dot near the Whomping Willow. So I went to go and get him, and h-h-he wasn't there! His collar was...but not him."

Her sobs began again in earnest. Harry's brow furrowed and he pulled her closer comfortingly. "Hermione, I'm sure he just tried to nibble it off, like how he did that other one. I'm sure that's all that is…"

"It's not, Harry. Yesterday I stole the Marauder's Map and I've scoured it several times, but he's not even on there either. I just...don't know what to do anymore…"

Harry inwardly praised Hermione for stealing something, even if it was his. Really, she ought to loosen up more. All this stress was bound to be bad for her.

"Hermione, are you okay?" he asked, concerned. "I mean...you said you've been having nightmares. What...what are they about?"

Her face grew flushed, and she rather avoided his gaze, staring down at her hands instead.

And then he saw it.

"Hermione, is that a—"

He grabbed her hand and lifted the sleeve of her white button-up past her wrist, and saw the rest of the bruise come into view. It was a blackish-purple mottled shade and covered the majority of her wrist.

"What _happened?"_ he said, growing deathly still.

"It's nothing, Harry—"

"That's _not _'nothing'—!"

"Well," Hermione interrupted hotly, "Seeing as how it's already happened, it's over and done with, and there is nothing you can do about it, then yes I would say it actually is 'nothing'—"

"What. _Happened_?"

Hermione yanked her sleeve out of his hand, glaring at him. But his piercing stare appeared to be working, however, because she finally lowered her eyes and grudgingly told him. Everything. From when she walked away with Krum, to what she talked with him about, to Greyback attacking her, to what Moony said about the Wolflord Potion...and then to the conversation she had with Krum about Malfoy and the Love Potion.

And Harry was properly horrified.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he hissed when she was through. "Were you _ever _planning on telling me?"

"Because I couldn't get a word in edgewise," she said miserably. "You were telling me what happened to Ron that day, and then I was distracted by him, and then...I don't know. There never seemed a good time. How do you tell someone that? It was...embarassing. I should have...I should have had my wand. I never should have let Greyback get that close to me. I should have been able to defend myself. Like...like...like _you_ would have. Like Ron _did. _Without my wand, I-I'm just...I felt useless."

Harry was taken aback.

Hermione Granger...useless?

Her guilt was quite discernible. He didn't know she felt this way...guilty for not being as good at defense as he was. She...she was perfect. In everything. How could she feel like she wasn't good enough…

And so he told her . Exactly what he thought about her, what she meant to him, how much he looked up to her. How she was the sister he'd never had. How she was everything _but _useless.

Hermione chuckled through her tears, and wiped them again. "Thank you, Harry. That really does mean a lot. I do try. And you...you're like the brother I never had too."

Harry smiled, but it fell off his face when he asked his next question. "What are your nightmares about?"

Hermione fidgeted, embarassed under his stare. She was sitting next to him against the wall, her skirt and long woollen gray tights keeping her skin from touching the gray stone. Her boots idly tapped against each other as she thought of her reply.

"Grayback. Attacking me...biting me...and Moony isn't there to stop him…"

Harry's hand found hers. "_I'll_ be there. I'll be there to stop him. Every. _Single. _Damn. Time. All right? And if you repeat that enough, your brain will start to believe it...until you dream about me being there to help you too."

"Harry, I don't think dreams work that way—"

"Then take a Dreamless Sleep potion, Hermione. I'm not kidding. I've been giving some to Ron when he's not looking. It's really been helping him—and me —to get a decent night's sleep. Just ask Madam Pomfrey, she has plenty—"

"I still have some left from start-of-term when she gave me some after the Death Eater attack. But I hate taking it, Harry, I really do. It makes me not be able to concentrate the next day, and I _need _to concentrate—"

"Hermione, you _sleeping _is more important than getting an 'E' on every exam," insisted Harry.

There was silence at this. It was a mark of how much he knew her that Harry could tell she was vehemently disagreeing with him in her head.

He made a mental note to slip some in her drink when she wasn't looking too.

However, Harry still wasn't done with his inquisition.

"Are you sure it was Malfoy that slipped you the Love Potion?" he asked quietly. "Do you think he meant for you to drink it...or was it meant for Krum?"

"_Viktor?" _Hermione scoffed. "Harry, I know all the boys have crushes on him, but I _highly _doubt that Malfoy does too—"

"Not because of that—" Harry complained, shuddering because of the images that conjured. "I mean, what if Malfoy is going after Krum? Why even give that to him? Did Malfoy want _you _falling for Krum? Or was it to manipulate Krum into doing something for Malfoy? I mean, Krum is foreign and he had ties with Karkaroff who we know was a Death Eater. What if he has something that Malfoy is after? There has to be an explanation…"

They both sank into silence yet again, thinking about what it all meant. And what they could do stop it if needed.

"And what about this...this whatsit potion…" said Harry, feeling shivers from the mere mention of it.

"Wolflord Potion," Hermione corrected automatically.

"Well they sure think a lot of themselves," Harry muttered.

"I've been researching it. Obviously, it is a new concoction, so I can't find anything in the library. But Harry, Greyback had it. Which means _Voldemort_ probably has it, or at least knows about it. And if Greyback and his pack are the ones who had the idea for it, just think! Who is the one person who is phenomenal at potions that Voldemort has in his employ?" said Hermione.

Harry's heart sank. "Snape."

"Exactly. You don't think…."

"That Snape has something to do with it? That he's the one who...who _made _it?" Harry asked slowly. "Yeah, Hermione...I do."

"But he...he _can't_ have…"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Harry said shortly.

"But surely the Headmaster knows…"

"The Headmaster doesn't know everything...just like _you _don't know everything, Hermione."

They sank into another silence.

"You _have _to tell him, Harry," Hermione whispered. "What if he goes after my parents? Ron's _family? _You have to tell Dumbledore so that he can protect them…"

Harry winced, heart sinking at the reminder yet again that he needed to tell Dumbledore about Voldemort being after Ron and Hermione.

"I'm writing him tonight if we can meet, don't worry. I'll tell him tonight," Harry promised.

Grateful, Hermione leaned her head onto his shoulder, and her warmth was like a calming draught that Harry did not know until that moment that he desperately needed.

Then he suddenly realized why he hadn't told Dumbledore yet.

Harry was afraid. Deathly afraid. Because if he told Dumbledore...that meant it was real. That his worst nightmares were about to come true.

That Voldemort was after the ones he loved most.

He didn't care if Voldemort was after him. Hell, he'd been used to it his whole life on some level. But Ron and Hermione…

Harry pulled himself out of his dark thoughts abruptly.

Nothing was going to happen to them.

Everything was going to be fine.

And they still had classes to attend.

"Come on, Hermione. Time to go and face the world yet again."

She groaned as he stood up, then helped her to her feet. "Do we have to?"

"Shame, shame, complaining about schoolwork...whatever would McGonagall say?" Harry teased.

Hermione made a face at him.

* * *

To say that Ron was guilty about his words earlier was...a bit of an understatement.

The look on her face...the look on Harry's…

Ron was a prat. Plain and simple.

And his wand apparently agreed with that statement because it wouldn't shut up. It kept screeching something horrible, ever since the Charms lesson. Frustrated, he went upstairs to lock it in his room and went back down to lunch. Dunno what he would do during their next Defense lesson, but oh wells. Problem for another period.

He hadn't quite got to the Great Hall yet, however, when he was beckoned over by Lupin, who was standing on the balcony overlooking the grand staircase.

"Ron, I'm glad to have found you," said Lupin as Ron drew near. "I haven't been able to find Harry or Hermione. How have you been doing? I heard about the attack in Hogsmeade…"

Ron winced. Yet another reminder of his near-death experience. Great…

In low tones, he told Lupin about it.

And the more Ron talked, the more he revealed. Lupin was just so easy to talk to, he admitted grudgingly. For one thing, Lupin was quite poor, like Ron was. They weren't the best-looking chaps and were often overshadowed by their more-popular best friends. Lupin had his curse and...well, Ron had been cursed. Far too many times now to count.

Gravity on Lupin's face gave way to curiosity when Ron had finished. "That is just...your skills, Ron...they are astounding. To hold up that shield as long as you did..._phenomenal_…"

Ron's ears grew pink, and he smiled sheepishly. "Everyone does keep saying that. I guess I have quite a lot of stamina.

"You do...you very well do...Harry has always been great at Seeking and short bursts of energy. He's still very powerful, of course," said Lupin hastily. "But...what he does as a Seeker only needs those short bursts of energy in order to capture the Snitch. It leaves a lot for recuperation. And he fights in the same way, have you noticed? In our duel last Sunday during D.A., he would often hide and bide his time, and then when he did fight it was spell after spell in repetition after he each other before he played defense again and hid behind his shield."

Ron nodded in realization, despite never having noticed this before.

"But you..._wow_...you have unbelievable amounts of energy, Ron, and as long as you keep drawing it out as steady as you did with that shield, you can last a great deal of time under duress. You could even beat Harry if you worked on wearing him out like you did that Death Eater. Such stamina...you really are impressive!" Lupin said appraisingly, clapping his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Where did you learn that spell?"

Ron couldn't help the grin from breaking through at the glowing review.

"It was pure chance that I came across that shield spell," he admitted, embarassed about the illegal shield. "I read it in one of Hermione's books, actually. She had fallen asleep in the Room of Requirements last year and one of her defense books looked interesting, so I started reading it. The only reason I remembered that spell on Saturday was because I saw it worked quite well to keep Pigwidgeon from flying in to things. I'd just cast that around him over the summer and it worked like a cage. And Ginny's hexes protected me and him, so that was an added bonus...you know how girls get...she was mad I stole her broom..."

Lupin chuckled, but quickly turned serious.

And the grin was completely wiped off Ron's face, too, when he heard what Lupin said next.

"Speaking of Hermione...I must ask you about something far more concerning. I really am worried about Hermione. She survived a great deal when Greyback attacked her on Saturday, and I noticed she hasn't been sleeping. Has she been doing all right? Did she mention anything to you? Ron?"

But Ron stopped breathing.

He stopped moving, he stopped blinking, his heart stopped beating.

"What...happened to Hermione?" he finally forced out, his words sounding wooden in his ears.

And Lupin told him about the werewolf.

* * *

By the time Harry and Hermione walked down to lunch, they realized they had quite missed it, so they went on to their next lesson. Both of them were still feeling too queasy to have much appetite anyway.

When Ron came in to the Defense classroom, Harry saw that Hermione quite avoided Ron.

But it was only minutes into the lesson that he realized Ron wasn't avoiding hers. He hadn't taken a seat opposite the room from her as he had been doing all week long, and out of the corner of Harry's eye he saw Ron's face was rather red and he kept staring at them indiscernible.

Harry furrowed his brow.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, they had another two hours of learning about Voldemort's past. When they came to the part about Tom Riddle hunting powerfully magical objects, Harry knew that something was missing from Jones' retelling of it. It simply didn't make sense, and he made a mental note in his head to ask Dumbledore why later.

"Have you noticed he's been gone more than half the time?" Harry muttered to her as they wrote down what Jones was copying onto the board.

"He and Moony both," Hermione agreed. "I overheard Moony talking with Professor Snape the other day—I think he may be in on it as well."

"_Snape _knows? Voldemort's going to be finding out what they're about any day now. Hope they didn't want to keep it secret," said Harry bitterly.

"If they want something known to the school, all they have to do is tell Ron," she said, still hurt about earlier. "Whether it's true or not."

"Hermione," he said, looking sideways at her. "I'm sure Ron didn't mean what he said."

"Which one? About me wanting to...to..." she trailed off, not even able to say the swear-word, face crimson. "Or about me 'seducing Seekers'? Or are you talking about Viktor not even wanting me?"

Harry saw her hands shaking with fury.

"All of the above," he said earnestly, looking into her eyes. "Look. I know he can be a selfish prick sometimes...but please go easy on Ron? He's been having a rough time of it too."

Hermione sighed. "I will. But Ron had better do me the same courtesy. It's not like he was the only one attacked that day."

He gave her a sidelong glance. "When are you going to tell him?"

Hermione cheeks turned pink, and she pulled the sleeves down over her wrists more as she wrote. "When he can stop being an idiot and I can trust him again," she stated.

"Look, Hermione…" Harry paused, unsure of what to say, but needing Hermione to know how uch he cared for her. "When somethingbig like a werewolf _attacking_ you happens again—knock on wood—" they both rapped on the wooden table beside them "—then _tell me, _all right? I need you to be honest with me. No more secrets."

"No more secrets," Hermione agreed. "But that goes both ways, Harry. You know it does. Is there anything you wish to tell me? I trust you to be completely honest with us, one hundred percent of the time. Is there anything that you in turn have neglected to mention?"

Her beseeching eyes stared into his own, and Harry forced a reassuring smile.

"I've told you everything I know," he said. "I would never keep anything from you. You know this."

Hermione smiled. "I know."

He reached over and clamped his hand over hers, in a rather brotherly way. Her smile broadened and Hermione squeezed his hand in thank you. She took a deep breath, and exhaled as her head turned back towards the front of the room and the lesson before them.

Harry sneaked a look at Ron, and noticed with a start that Ron was glaring daggers at him.

Or rather...Harry and Hermione's clasped hands on the table.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**And there you have it! Next chapter will be "Green-Eyed Monsters". Le gasp! **

**And please, please review! Reviews make me remember to update! So far I have been getting about ONE review per chapter. Which I cherish dearly. But I really do need reminders to post chapters! These chapters are ALL WRITTEN! And there are FIFTY OF THEM! I just have to remember to post them, preferably one a night, before I go to bed. Only I forget and work on writing the SEQUEL instead (le gasp a second time!)**

**So remind me! Remind me, remind me, remind me in a review.**

**And you will be rewarded.**


	24. Green-Eyed Monsters

**GREEN-EYED MONSTERS**

For her part, Ginny had always been somewhat in love with Harry Potter.

She had first heard about him when she was four. Of course, she didn't know he was Harry Potter then (or what a hairy potter even was), but he had been her first crush all the same.

It all started anew the first moment she laid eyes on him at King's Cross in Ron's first year. And then she found out who he was, and that he was Ron's best friend, and the crush only escalated her first year at Hogwarts.

Then after he saved her from the sixteen-year-old Voldemort and the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets during her first year, Ginny no longer thought she loved him—she _knew_ it.

Just as she also knew that she was going to marry him.

Over the following years, her crush died down quite a bit. It was Quidditch that helped her mostly—well, Quidditch, and Hermione. As soon as the older girl started hanging out with the Weasleys over their summers and Christmases after Ginny's second year, the two of them quickly became best friends. Ginny confessed her feelings for Harry, and Hermione likewise for Ron. And so, Ginny started doing what Hermione told her to do: by becoming Harry's friend and getting to know him as such, thus quenching the heartbreak and tears by a considerable amount.

For Ginny, it was now working wonders. She thought it had all been lost when Harry asked her to go to the Yule Ball with him and she had to tell him she was already going with Neville, but in her fourth year after Harry broke up with Cho, something changed. Her part in the Department of Mysteries seemed to solidify her friendship with the three of them, and spending the summer with Harry garnered his attention much more. She started spending more time with her brother's friends than her own.

As much as she hated seeing her brother screw things up with Hermione, who was quickly becoming her best friend, it was because of this that Harry started to hang out with her more.

On the one hand, it was nice—_more_ than nice.

It was here she got to know him more as Ron and Hermione saw him, instead of how the rest of the wizarding world saw him, or her family even. She liked it when he came and sat with her during lunch, or sat with her in the common room, or walked with her part-way to her next class just so he could be away from Ron and Lavender—or Krum and Hermione—sucking face.

But on the other hand...she simply hated seeing Harry lose his best friends this way. She hated the look he got on his face every time Ron and Lavender moved towards him, or when Hermione entered the room, saw Ron, and left. He was spending more than half his time chasing after one or the other, pleading with them to come to terms.

And Ginny alone noticed the strain that the D.A. lessons, Occlumency lessons, Quidditch practices, and other N.E.W.T. classes were doing to him, not to mention the settling weight of the prophecy _and _how pig-headed his two best friends were being.

It was because of this that she decided to act.

* * *

Harry's mind kept turning in circles as he trudged up to the Owlery. It was particularly cold, and rain whipped around the mountainous air, pounding into him as he slipped on the steps more than once.

The cone-shaped ceiling of the Owlery offered him protection, however, and he found a perch with few droppings on it that he could use to write his message to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, who couldn't be found. Dumbledore, who was yet again on another secret mission. Dumbledore, who Harry was trying desperately to get ahold of.

_Professor_—

_I have something urgent that I need to discuss with you. It has to deal with the DE in Hogsmeade. Can we talk tonight after dinner? Let me know._

—_Harry_

Deciding this tiny snippet was good enough to get the message across, he rolled it into a scroll and tried tying it with twine to Hedwig's taloned leg.

_After being in the wizarding world for five years, you'd think I'd have this down better… _Harry grimaced as his frozen fingers fumbled with the knot.

This feat proved most treacherous, however, as other owls kept flying too close to the white owl, and she squawked in anger before being fed up with it and taking off up high in the rafters, scroll-less.

Harry swore, and called her back down again so she could deliver the letter. She rebuffed his request.

"Hedwig, you goose, come back here!"

But she refused.

He sighed, and kicked a white, dropping-covered post. Regretting it a second later, he heard sounds just outside the building, and went to see what was going on.

It was Neville.

He was standing on the rocky pathway, wand out, and trying to repel an irate owl that appeared to be attacking him.

Harry at once ran to his aid.

"_Protego!" _Harry shouted as the bird flew at them again.

The shield protected them both from the feathery onslaught, but this only proved to infuriate the bird more. It flew higher up for another attack.

"Don't you think I've already tried that?" said Neville, as the shield disappeared and Harry quickly cast another. It was thrown up just in time as the talons penetrated it.

"Well, I guess there is nothing else for it," Harry said, grabbing Neville's arm. "Run for it!"

The shield dissipated just as they raced down the path, casting spells at the owl as they went. Back in the direction of the castle, until they got to the door of the castle, slamming it behind them, and collapsing against the back of it. The owl screeched when it realized they got away and there was a flurry of feathers as it tried to get through the door or find an opening. But after a few minutes, they heard it take off.

For a moment they just gasped with breath, chests heaving, until they made eye contact. Then they started laughing.

"Thanks, Harry," Neville said after they quietened down a bit.

"Any time, Nev," Harry replied. "That was so odd though. Why did that bird go mental?"

Neville furrowed his brow and withdrew a long, rectangle package he'd been hiding in his robe. "No idea. I think it was trying to get this."

Harry stared down at the unassuming thing, just slightly smaller than Neville's arm.

"What, is it filled with mice?"

"I...don't really know…"

"What's in it?"

Neville persed his lips. "It's for Dumbledore."

"So...something important?"

"Probably."

Harry nodded, knowing Neville wasn't going to give him any hints.

"Go straight to his office," Harry advised. "Don't talk to anyone. Don't pass through any windows. Don't let anyone see it. And _don't _give it to anyone other than him. Not even McGonagall. Not even Snape. Understand?"

Neville nodded gravely.

And as they parted ways, Harry found himself wondering why Neville was given something that was supposed to go to Dumbledore. What was Neville hiding? And did owls usually have green eyes?

And, quite incidentally, he rather forgot to send that letter to Dumbledore.

* * *

Hermione was walking alone down the darkened corridor.

She was patrolling the castle, and Ron had failed to show up to his post yet again. This enraged Hermione like nothing else, but she was determined not to let it get the best of her. So she simply squared her shoulders and marched out of the portrait hole without him.

It was far more eerie travelling through the castle, looking for anything or anyone out of place, by herself.

But she was armed, the Aurors were also patrolling the wards and outskirts of the castle, and Dumbledore was at Hogwarts once again. Nobody would dare attack with him here. Everything was fine.

She passed several portraits, snoring in their slumber, and made her way slowly down to the library. Her wand was lit and held aloft, casting over every nook and cranny.

It helped that she had the Marauders' Map with her. She had taken to keeping it on her every time she patrolled when Ron wasn't with her. Nobody was on the Map within her vicinity but that didn't mean she couldn't do her job. Someone's pet might be out making mischief.

_Padfoot and Prongs would be rolling over in their graves if they could see how their Map was being used to stop mischief rather than to cause it,_ she thought wryly.

She had just rounded the corner, library in full view, when she saw a cloak disappear through the double library doors.

Heart skipping, Hermione scoured the Map.

Nobody was in the library.

Brow furrowed, she edged closer to the doors, peering inside the eerily ominous cathedral of a room.

Nobody within view. Nobody on the Map.

But she wasn't seeing things...was she?

Creeping farther in, Hermione didn't see the spell zooming towards her until just in time.

Map fluttered to the floor. Shield flew up. The Death Eater stepped into view, two wands pointing at her chest.

And then the duel began.

Hermione parried strike after strike but could hardly find a moment to cast any offensive spell of her own.

He was simply too fast. And every spell was non-verbal.

_Well, two can play that game, _she thought furiously.

_Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! _She thought over and over, sending stunner after stunner his way. He dodged them all explicitly, but then she cast—

_Bombarda! _

Right over his head at the bookshelves.

They came crashing down on him, and he barely threw up a shield in time.

But he was distracted.

She sent a slipping jinx at his feet, the only thing not covered by his shield, and he fell.

Hermione ran forward, casting stunner after stunner yet again, making sure she actually got him, still wary.

He lay unmoving, surrounded by a cascade of books.

Wand never leaving his form, Hermione edged closer. Prepared for him to spring up and attack her, nevermind the stunners.

The moonlight shone through the latticed windows, cutting apart the shadows and alighting on the Death Eater's mask on his face.

Closer still, she came forward, till she was just feet from him.

Closer...closer…

Shaking breath, Hermione whispered the disappearing charm on his mask, and finally saw with a horrified gasp who the double-wanded Death Eater was.

It was Harry.

His green eyes snapped open and he rose up. In her shock, she couldn't stop him as he raised both wands against her, eyes evil and furious, and hissed those two words that she feared the most.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open.

The long, drawn-out scream, which had woken him from his sleep, continued on.

He threw himself out of bed, falling to the floor as his feet got tangled in the sheets. Fingers fumbled on the nightstand for his glasses and wand.

Then he was off. Down the stairs. To the common room. Where nothing appeared out of place.

The scream had ended.

Whispers echoed down to him from the girls' staircase, and Harry looked up at it, perplexed.

And then, finally, Hermione emerged.

She had her periwinkle nightrobe on, barely covering her white pajama shirt and bottoms, and her slippers muffled her footsteps as she alighted down the last stair. Eyes were red from crying, and her hair, loosely plaited and hanging down over one shoulder, could hardly help hide her tear-streaked face.

Hesitating when she saw Harry there, she nevertheless walked to the sofa in front of the cold and dead fireplace. Harry's concern for her doubled when he saw she wasn't done crying, and he hung near the sofa, unsure of what to do.

"It's nothing, Harry," she croaked, not facing him. "Just a nightmare. I'm not...being attacked or anything. You can go back to bed."

She pulled her robe tighter around, and Harry saw she was shivering.

He hurried forward and started a fire in the grate, which roared to life almost instantly.

Hermione stared at the dancing flames. "Thank you," she whispered.

Harry sat beside her, staring at her face. "You didn't take Dreamless Potion, did you?"

A pause. Then a head shake.

"Hermione…"

He stopped, uncertain of what to say. So he chose compassion. Putting his arm around her, Harry settled on the cushion beside her, and she gratefully leaned into him.

"Tell me all about it," he said.

Haltingly, and with much embarassment, Hermione told him the nightmare. Of how she was patrolling the corridors by herself, and then found the Death Eater in the library. And Harry grew completely still when she said that it was him.

"...and then you killed me," Hermione said simply. "And I woke up screaming, and everyone in my dorm was awake, and Merlin, was I horrified. I didn't mean to disrupt everyone's sleep. I told them to just go back to bed, but I knew I couldn't sleep after that. So I thought maybe I'd read by the fire…"

"You didn't bring a book," he noted.

She blinked. "Oh."

Harry tried to chuckle, to aleviate the tension, but it hardly came out.

Hermione sniffled, and wiped at her face again.

Heart-breaking, Harry whispered, "I'm really sorry I killed you."

That did it.

Hermione chuckled and she shoved his shoulder with her own. "I guess dream-me had it coming. I did attack you too."

Staring into the fire, Harry cleared his throat. "You don't..._really..._think that Death Eater that attacked you is me, do you?"

Hermione chuckled again. "Of course I don't, Harry. For one thing, you fought him off in that clearing. For another, you couldn't hurt a fly."

"Oy!" he said, taking offense.

"Sorry. I take that back. You couldn't hurt an innocent fly. An evil, Skeeter-like bug on the other hand...that, I wouldn't mind you killing."

He grinned at the smile on her face, and knew his job was complete.

But as they settled into a comfortable silence, Harry grew more and more disturbed. The thought of him being that Death Eater...of him killing..._anything_…

Even Voldemort.

Harry wasn't who Hermione thought he was at all. He couldn't be.

_You couldn't hurt a fly, _she'd said.

And yet, that's who he had to become now.

A murderer.

A nagging guilt stole into Harry's mind, and as he sat with Hermione on the sofa in the Common Room, Harry was yet again overwhelmed by it. He pulled Hermione into him more compassionately and shoved the guilt aside as she smiled and settled against his chest in a friendly gesture.

_I can't tell her yet. It's not the right time._

There was a noise on the stairs behind them, but Harry didn't turn his head around to see who it was because another, even equally unsettling, thought surfaced in his mind.

_Maybe she never has to know._

Shock invaded Harry at this.

Could he? Could he just..._not _tell Hermione and Ron that he was slated to become a murderer?

The idea sounded so appealing in his head. A low growl of approval almost came out of his throat, but he remembered himself and stopped it just in time.

Hermione took no notice.

"I know you'd never, _ever _harm anyone," said Hermione as they stared at the fire. "I'm sorry I told you about my dream. I'm sorry for dreaming it, really. And don't you dare go thinking that I think that of you! Of course I don't! I have no idea why I dreamed that, really. You're so...honest. And you're so _good_, Harry..."

Harry grinned, and followed her lead in the consoling compliments. "Not near as good as you."

She laughed, her lighthearted musical voice echoed in the Common Room. Merlin above, did Harry need to hear that laugh.

Yet...the red-clawing guilt that Harry felt at lying to her only intensified.

If only he could be as convinced of his goodness as she was.

She gave him a small smile, eyes glistening in the firelight. "Thank you, Harry. That means a lot to me… _You_ mean a lot to me."

"And you, me," said Harry, looking earnestly into her eyes.

What could have happened to her on Saturday...what _did _happen to her...and he hadn't even been there for it.

"You know I love you, right?" said Harry platonically with a laugh. "I couldn't live if anything happened to you…"

The smile on her face grew, and his heart warmed just looking at her. He drew her closer, breathing in her hair, and all he could think about was Greyback.

Greyback hurting her, Greyback on top of her, Greyback sniffing her, Greyback trying to _bite _her…

He was never going to let go of his best friend ever again.

"I love you too, Harry," she said, hugging him. Then sighed. "Ron be damned."

Harry chuckled. Of course there was no way he could replace Ron in her eyes. She loved Harry like a brother. But she loved Ron like a...well...something more. Harry reddened just thinking about it. But who was to say which love was stronger? Familial or romantic? They were both equally strong.

And love was going to be the thing that saved him.

Gratitude for his not-quite-sister overwhelmed him for helping him remember this, and Harry knew that everything was going to be all right.

He kissed the top of her head.

"Just forget about Ron, all right?" he whispered to her. "He doesn't know how much you actually mean to me…"

* * *

Quite unluckily for them—and himself—Ron had come into the Common Room just minutes earlier.

Hermione's scream was the first thing to jar him out of his slumber, and Harry crashing around before slamming open the door was the second thing.

Ron was just moments behind him (but far quieter).

Fear had sliced through him till he went down the stairs and heard Hermione telling Harry her dream, and his heart went back to normal.

A dream. That's all that was.

And he turned around to go back up the stairs, not wanting her to see his concern for her when he was supposed to be mad at her.

But then he heard her laugh at something Harry said, and his curiosity took him farther down the stairs until he could see them.

His thoughts of apologizing to Hermione for the idiotic things he said (and didn't even mean, really...he knew she wasn't just attracted to Seekers...not _really_…) stopped flying about his head, however, as soon as he saw the two of them together.

Holding hands.

Her body flush up against his.

His arm around her.

Her head laying on his shoulder.

His head resting on her hair.

Whispering something in her ear.

Staring into his eyes.

_Cuddling._

The words they were saying to each other dug into Ron's brain, leaving scratch marks and drawing blood.

A fury unlike any Ron had ever known rose unbidden in him.

It was like a dragon clawing its way out.

Fiery fumes billowing in his chest.

Smoke trickling out his nostrils.

His hands clenched into fists.

"_You're so good, Harry…"_

It tried to break out of his chest with a mighty shriek of rage.

"_Not near as good as you…"_

It tried to make its presence known to his two…_former_…best friends.

"_You mean a lot to me…"_

Ron walked backwards, not giving the dragon the satisfaction.

"_And you, me…"_

He turned back up the stairs.

"_You know I love you, right?" _

Back the way he came.

"_I couldn't live if anything happened to you…"_

Back up to his dormitory.

"_I love you too, Harry…"_

The dragon retracted its ugly head and settled back down in its cave.

"_Ron be damned…"_

And all that replaced it was grief.

"_Ron be damned…"_

Grief and heartache.

"_Ron be damned…"_

Ron wondered if Hermione even knew about what happened to him in Hogsmeade. He wondered if she even knew that the Death Eater who attacked them at the start of term came back to try and finish the job.

"_Forget about Ron…"_

Did she know about him passing out?

"_Forget about Ron…"_

Did she know about him saving those girls?

"_Forget about Ron…"_

Did she know about the death threat?

"_Forget about Ron…"_

Did she know that he was now walking about the castle with a target on his back, and that Order members were now silently shadowing his every move when he wasn't in classes or in Gryffindor tower?

"_Forget about Ron…"_

Did she know how much danger he was in?

"_...he doesn't know how much you actually mean to me…"_

Did she even care?

* * *

Ginny Weasley had a plan of action.

It required Ron and Hermione to both be in the common room together at a certain time. Without Harry.

It was over the past few days that Ginny noticed the change in the dynamics between Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Ron had started avoiding Harry.

Several times, Harry tried to ask him what was wrong, but although Ron just forced a smile and said nothing, Ginny and Harry both knew something was up. It was as if Ginny's brother had started acting mechanical in front of them, answering in a weird voice, acting like everything was peachy...but Ginny could see Ron staring at Harry when he thought nobody was looking.

It was just like that night Harry had got back from the Triwizard Tournament, expecting Ron to believe he hadn't put his name in the Goblet, Harry told Ginny one day. But instead, he had been confronted by a nonchalant, angrily jealous Ron.

"Only, I have no idea what Ron could be jealous of this time," Harry had said in anguish.

Ginny didn't know either.

But she sure as hell going to fix the problem.

"Ron!" Ginny called, as they made their way back from the Quidditch pitch for practice later the next day. "Listen, I need to talk to you about something. Could you meet me in the common room at midnight tonight? And make sure Harry doesn't follow you down!"

To Hermione, who was getting off her patrol around that time, Ginny said the same thing.

Her plan of action firmly in place, she waited with bated breath until she could pull it off.

And so it was that Ginevra Molly Weasley could be found ten minutes past midnight, pacing in front of the fireplace.

Ron came down first, already dressed in his paisley pajamas. "I had to wait until Harry was snoring. Now what in Godric's good name do you want, Ginny, that you couldn't tell me in the middle of the day?"

The portrait hole opened to reveal Hermione, still in school uniform attire, just come from patrolling the corridors. She caught sight of Ron first and narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing here? Skivving off your duties again? I had to do patrol by myself. _Again._"

"Is this an intervention?" Ron looked at Ginny accusingly. "I'm going to bed."

"Oh _no, _you don't!" Ginny said angrily as both of them made to head up to their prospective dorms. "I didn't come this far to trick you both into meeting me here tonight just for you to walk out on me now. I need to talk to you both about Harry."

"What about him?" Ron sneered.

Hermione huffed. "_I'm_ still friends with him, at least. I couldn't say the same for Ron."

"Oh, really?" Ron said, jeering at Hermione. "You off snogging Harry now when you aren't in a broom cupboard with Krum?"

"OY!" Ginny shouted before Hermione could react. "Are you going to be civil to each other or not? I need to talk to you about Harry, and if you're not going to stand there voluntarily, I _will _Petrify you! Don't think I won't—I certainly don't need your mouths working to say what I have to."

Ron stepped over the back of the couch and settled onto it, cross-legged and scowling. "Fine."

Hermione stayed where she was, glaring at the back of Ron's head. "I'm listening."

Ginny sighed and smoothed her mane of red hair.

"Thank you," she said. "Now I don't know if either of you have noticed—what with your own issues in making-out with anything human that breathes—but Harry is not doing so well. He's got way too much on his platter right now and you both need to get over yourselves and just be his friends!"

Ron spluttered. "What do you mean 'he's got way too much on his platter'? His life is perfect right now! His scar hasn't been hurting, You-Know-Who's not plaguing his mind anymore, no Death Eaters are currently trying to kill him, he's finally got over Sirius dying, he gets to be designated professor to half the school, Dumbledore's giving him special lessons, _and _he gets to be Quidditch Captain!" he said, looking surly while counting Harry's feats on both hands. "Oh, not to mention, he's now known to the world as the 'Chosen One' and Dumbledore's right-hand man, _and _all the girls at Hogwarts are swooning all over him. As if to add injury to the matter, he's got—h-he's—" But he cut off abruptly, face red, as he glared over at Hermione. Ginny could tell it was about her. But whatever he was going to say was far too private. He finished vehemently. "He's got everything he could possibly want!"

"That's not fair, Ron, he's not—" said Hermione.

"Do you hear something, Ginny?" gritted Ron, pointedly ignoring her.

"Ron, you great prat, I mean about the prophecy!" Ginny snapped. "He's doing all of this stuff because of it! You know how he's been all summer—ever since he heard what it said about him, he's been worrying himself sick! He thinks he's the only one who can defeat Voldemort, and he's now going about learning things like crazy—with all of these things he has going on, it's a wonder he's still sane—"

"Wait, what?" said Ron, standing up. "Didn't you hear, the prophecy's gone—it was smashed on those steps—nobody knows what it was about—"

Ginny sighed, exasperated. _Why is Ron such an idiot, sometimes? He knows it's not gone, Harry told him—_

"You can stop pretending like you don't know anything—I know it's not gone! Harry's known all this time what it was about—Dumbledore told him all about it at the end of last year, and he told _me_ about it ages ago! Didn't he tell you that I know—"

She abruptly stopped.

In that one second, she became aware of Ron's dangerously narrowed eyes—of Hermione's ashen face and jaw-dropped mouth—and suddenly knew that she had just done something unequivocally and irrevocably unforgivable.

Until now, it had never occurred to Ginny that Harry might have told her about the prophecy before he told his two best friends. The very idea was absurd—he told Ron and Hermione everything—he'd had the end of June to do it, not counting the entire summer he spent with them, or September, _or_ October...

She was flabbergasted. _How could he not have told them? How could he have told me but not them? And how could _I _have been such an idiot and blurted it out? _

"You—you didn't know?" she gasped. "But I—I thought he told you—I thought you knew—"

"Thought who knew what?"

To make matters even worse, it was Harry who had spoken. He had just come down from his room, night-robe on, feet in slippers, black hair more tousled than ever.

"_Harry!_" she whispered, face stricken. "I'm so sorry! I'm so, _so_ sorry! I thought you told them!"

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry. He looked quite alarmed when he saw their faces.

"You _knew_?" Hermione spoke at last. "You _knew _what the prophecy said?"

Harry opened his mouth, but it was too late.

"YOU LIED TO US!" roared Ron. "You TOLD us that you didn't know what it said—that after it was smashed, that was it! How could you bloody KNOW what it said—how could you KNOW and NOT TELL US—"

"Ron, I—"

"But you had NO PROBLEM telling HER, is that it? After everything the three of us have been through—you tell MY LITTLE SISTER instead? After EVERYTHING—"

"But I was going to—"

"After EVERYTHING! We've risked our bloody LIVES for you! Over and OVER—we've HELPED you fight back at YOU-KNOW-WHO—we've BEEN there for you the WHOLE DAMN TIME, and THIS is how you—?"

"I tried to tell you, Ron, but—"

"There were DEATH EATERS there! They tried to KILL us! Hermione was as good as DEAD! I went MENTAL! We risked our BLOODY LIVES for that DAMNED PROPHECY, and you CONVENIENTLY forgot to tell us what it EFFING SAID—!"

"I _know _I should have told you, but I was afraid, all right?" Harry finally broke in. "I was _afraid! _Just like I was afraid that if I told Dumbledore about Voldemort being after you, you wouldn't be able to do anything you wanted anymore! That your life as you knew it would be over! That you guys wouldn't want to be friends with me any more! I thought that by not telling him, I was saving you the pain of being my friend!"

"Wait, _what?" _Ginny gasped.

The silence in the room at this was deafening. All too late, Harry realized he let something slip that probably shouldn't have been public knowledge.

Ginny was caught up on the jaw-dropping "_Voldemort being after you" _part of this conversation, but Ron and Hermione had zeroed in on something else entirely.

Ron just stared at him.

"You didn't…" Ron took a deep breathe, then hissed, "_You didn't tell Dumbledore?"_

"I was going to, Ron—I was—I wrote the letter and everything, but then—"

"YOU-KNOW-WHO MIGHT BE AFTER MY WHOLE FAMILY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDN'T TELL DUMBLEDORE? YOU-KNOW-WHO COULD BE _KILLING _THEM RIGHT NOW—!"

Ginny was completely frozen. Dumbfounded.

What the _hell_ was going on?

"I'm _sorry_ I haven't told him yet, Ron—_I_ _should have_—"

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN! After EVERYTHING we have done for you! The effing Death Eater cursed HERMIONE instead of you! He cursed ME instead of you! Where were you when he was making us SCREAM in PAIN?"

Ginny tried in vain to intervene. "Ron, he _tried _to save you—"

But Ron's fury focused solely on Harry.

"WELL YOU DIDN'T TRY HARD ENOUGH! If you had just gone to Dumbledore when you SAID you were going to, that attack in Hogsmeade NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED! We would have been PROTECTED! We never even should have BEEN THERE! Because of YOU, I was almost BLOODY KILLED, and YOU—_YOU _weren't even THERE—!"

"Ron, _believe _me, I wish I was, but—"

"OH YEAH? WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU WHEN HERMIONE WAS UNDER THE CRUCIATUS? OR WHEN SHE WAS CURSED INTO CRYING BLOOD? OR WHEN WAS BEING ATTACKED BY A FUCKING WEREWOLF?" Ron roared, completely red in the face.

Ginny gasped, hands flying up to her mouth.

"_She what_—" Ginny said, aghast.

Harry's face had never before been so white. He moved forward toward them, but Ron refused to let Harry near Hermione.

"How can you even look at us in the eye after that?" snarled Ron, shoving Harry against the wall. "Our parents might be DEAD now because of you!"

Ginny was far too shocked to stand up for Harry this time.

Harry was far too shocked to even stand up for himself.

Ron gave him one last shove.

"You can go to _hell _for all I care!" he spat in Harry's face.

Without another word, he stomped up the stairs.

Slowly…

Agonizingly…

Harry picked himself up, and looked over at Hermione.

She was still standing where she'd been all along, but if Ginny thought she would react the same way Ron did, she was dead wrong. The brunette's face was still white, but now there were tears streaming down it. Her eyes were bright and glassy, quite like they were when she had been Petrified, but now they were staring at Harry, looking utterly hurt and betrayed.

"How _could_ you?"

It was just three words, said in a whisper, but the look on her face was just as bad as everything Ron had said.

"I trusted you!" Hermione said in anguish.

Without another word, she turned around and ran up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

Harry and Ginny were now alone.

Ginny made her way towards him slowly. He had sunk to the ground against the wall, knees up, head in hands.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," said Ginny miserably. "I understand if you never want to speak to me again."

He didn't say anything as she followed Hermione up the stairs until his forlorn form was out of her sight. Leaving him completely alone once again.

Ginevra Molly Weasley had just made things utterly worse.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Dun dun DUN! This was quite honestly one of my favorite chapters to write. I mean, y'all well know how much I looove action scenes! But having Ron shout at Harry like that...sigh...be still my beating heart. **

**Here is the 25th chapter! We are now officially halfway through this story, which has just been upgraded to 50 chapters, yay for you. I did write the Death Eater attacking Ron scene and the werewolf attacking Hermione scene as the mid-climax...not sure if any of you picked up on that...**

**All this teen angst! How ever will they get over it? Definitely not in the next chapter, hint hint, which is coincidentally called "Draco and the Dean"...**

**Which will be coming to you just as soon as you review...**


	25. Draco and the Dean

**DRACO AND THE DEAN**

It seemed like the end of an era.

Never before had anything like this happened. Their third year had been filled with bad rows between Ron and Hermione, but through it all Ron stuck by his side. Fourth year had Ron furious with him for two months, but Hermione was still speaking to him. The both of them seemed perpetually mad at each other for some reason or another...but they had never both been furious with Harry before.

And Harry was in hell.

If he thought that something good could have come of this, he was wrong.

When he awoke the next day, he thought that Ron and Hermione would be reunited in their feelings against Harry and start speaking to each other again. They certainly walked down to breakfast together, anyway. But as soon as Hermione saw Lavender zooming towards them, she not-so-politely excused herself, and went to sit at the Ravenclaw table with Luna.

Ron had now taken to hanging out with Neville; they could be seen in classes with their heads bent and talking, or walking together in corridors, or eating at meals. If Ron was trying to make Harry feel left out and alone, it was definitely working.

Even Quidditch practices were torture—the other members were just fine listening to Harry, but if he told Ron to block the right ring more, Ron'd block the left; if Harry told Ron to get his arse up into the air, Ron would just sit his arse firmly on the ground.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the first Quidditch match of the season—Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw—wasn't just a few weeks away, the Saturday before Halloween.

Ginny, as well, had taken to avoiding Harry. It wasn't because she felt mad at him, but rather embarrassed. He had to hunt her down before her Charms class just to tell her that no, he wasn't furious with her, yes, he'd like to speak to her again, and could they start now, please?

With the practical absence of his two best friends, Harry had taken to hanging out with Ginny more and more.

Through all of this, she made it at least somewhat bearable for him. She wanted to talk Ron and Hermione off their lofty perches on Harry's behalf, but thought she botched things up considerably last time and didn't even try. Finding that she was rather admirable to be around offered a bit to the equation despite both Ron's and Hermione's absences, and Harry rather liked being around her. The previous feelings he had got when with her now intensified—

Harry knew now that he really did fancy Ginny Weasley….

And he couldn't care less what Ron thought.

It seemed the entire school had noticed that the three of them were out of sorts. It was difficult not to. Each of their professors certainly noticed that something was amiss—when McGonagall tried to pair up Harry and Hermione to transfigure their rocks into crups, Hermione specifically asked to be put with someone else.

And then the rumors began.

At first, they started out simple—Ron was jealous of Harry because of all the attention, and Hermione couldn't get them to talk...or Ron was now seen as the 'physical' one of the three, and neither Harry nor Hermione liked that at all. But as the week continued, these rumors grew worse. Harry went down to breakfast one Wednesday in the middle of October and found out that he and Hermione had just been seen snogging in a broom closet by Ron. Apparently, Ron grew quite jealous and told Krum, who tried to beat up Harry before taking Hermione for himself.

The nerve of him.

It was with this that Harry found himself walking up the slick path from Hagrid's hut one rainy afternoon after classes. The visit with the half-giant had been fun, but Harry and Hagrid both felt the missing presence of Ron and Hermione.

Harry had just rounded one boulder when he heard two other people arguing loudly in the stone circle above him.

Harry peered around the stone, and was boggled when he saw who it was.

Coming right into the middle of the stone circle was Hermione, still decked out in her Hogwarts uniformed white blouse and skirt even though classes were done.

...And she was following Draco Malfoy, who was wearing a murderous expression on his pale features.

They both had umbrella charms to protect them from the sleet and were immersed in their conversation. The irony was not lost on Harry that both of them were arguing yet again in the exact place where Hermione hit Malfoy during their third year.

Harry ducked behind the boulder before they could see him.

His shock at seeing Hermione with _Malfoy _of all people only intensified when he heard what they were talking about.

"—now will you just stop walking, and look at me!" Hermione was saying, exasperated. "You owe me at least that—"

Malfoy appeared to have enough of her incessant nagging. He whirled around, eyes flashing, but his back was now to Harry so he couldn't read the expression on the Slytherin's face.

"I don't owe you anything, _Mudblood!_ I don't have to look at you, I don't have to listen to you, and I sure as hell don't have to give you so much as the time of day!" Malfoy spat.

He whipped around again, and started walking closer to Harry's hiding spot.

Hermione, however, stopped in her tracks.

"I know it was you who gave Viktor that love potion," she said stoically.

Malfoy stopped. His blond hair was hidden under a traveling hat, and his dark, fur-lined cloak covered most of his body, but from Harry's perch, he could see Malfoy was completely frozen.

Hermione took this moment to catch up with him, her boots allowing for good traction on the slippery stairs, her own deep blue cloak falling off her shoulders, and her honey brown curls spilling out of her hair clips. And head to toe, she was still amazingly dry. Harry hardly had time to compliment her on her umbrella charm (albeit in his head), before she paused several steps above Malfoy, putting her height level with his own on that slippery slope.

She stared Draco Malfoy down.

"You don't have to look at me, you don't have to listen to me, and you don't have to give me the time of day. But you sure as _hell _owe me the truth. Did you or did you not give Viktor Krum the love potion that you stole from my cauldron after you purposely knocked it all over me?" she said.

Then Harry saw, aghast, that she was holding her wand mere inches from Malfoy's chest. Something Malfoy seemed very aware.

Harry's mind flashed back to their third year when Hermione had hit Malfoy. She drew her wand on him then too and he looked about to piss his pants. No such look was on his face now, however. His eyes were guarded, but not afraid, and he made no move to withdraw his own wand.

"Yes, I took your potion," Malfoy grudgingly admitted.

"And did you put your own hair in it?" she hissed. "I saw you tear some of your hair out that day. Did you put it in the potion?"

Harry's mouth fell open.

Malfoy's mouth screwed up, like it was a wrench to admit this. "No. That...was the plan, all right? That's what they told me to do. But no. I didn't follow through. The plan...was changed."

Her wandtip burrowed into his robes as she stepped closer. And yet her voice never lost its leveled firmness, its stoic questionning never giving way to emotion.

"What. Was. The. Plan."

There was an intake of breath. Harry couldn't tell if it was Malfoy's or his own.

"The plan was...to get you...to come with me...whatever the cost. I was supposed to..._deliver_...you. But after that day...the plan was changed. And my job was...given...to someone else…"

Harry was frozen.

Hermione appeared to be frozen too. But Harry couldn't see her face to know what she was thinking.

"_Why _was the plan changed?" she finally asked.

"Because someone else did..._something_...to earn more favor with the Dark Lord," Malfoy hissed. "I don't know what, all right? I'm not privy to everything."

Hermione drew in a deep breath. "One more. Then I will let you go."

Malfoy scowled, and Harry was once again struck by why in the world Malfoy was giving this information to Hermione so freely. What was she doing to him? Did she cast a spell that Harry hadn't heard? Did she slip Veritaserum in Malfoy's drink before she followed him here?

"Who was your job given to?" she said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

There was a silence at these words, and Harry strained his ears, not daring to breathe lest he miss it.

But Malfoy was a let-down. "I don't _know, _all right? _I don't know. _Now get that thing out of my way before I do something you will really regret."

For a single moment longer, Hermione stared at him, expression unreadable from Harry's point of view. Then, she withdrew her wand, and that act alone was a dismissal.

Forgetting, or uncaring, of his original goal in going down that pathway, Malfoy just turned on his heel and walked back down the way he came, turning his coat collar up to the cold as he went.

As soon as he had rounded the bend out of view, Harry stepped out from his hiding spot and went to stand next to his best friend. It was rather warm under her umbrella charm. Hermione didn't even look at him as they both watched Malfoy go.

"How did you know I was there?" said Harry lowly, noticing this.

The Marauders' Map appeared in her hand. "You forget I still have this."

Harry nodded in realization, and they both started off down the path. Malfoy's words swam in his head, and Harry grew a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Why was he spilling his guts to you?" Harry asked.

But the hardened look returned on her face.

"_Don't_ pretend like you care," she whispered.

Then she stalked off, leaving Harry far more confused than ever.

* * *

Harry found himself trudging up to Dumbledore's office that night after eating a hurried dinner by himself with the whole school whispering about him behind his back.

By all accounts, he should have been ecstatic—it was his first Legilimency lesson with Dumbledore—but with everything that had been going on, he was now more glum than ever.

"To perform Legilimency on another being is to know them entirely. However, it is impossible to accomplish it without knowing the magical aura of the person you are trying it on. Close your eyes, Harry. Using your mind, can you sense my aura?" said Dumbledore.

The Sword of Gryffindor hung above the mantel behind Dumbledore, reflecting the shining lamp orbs suspended in midair.

Not for the first time, Harry thought about Dumbledore being the Heir of Gryffindor and Voldemort being the Heir of Slytherin. Who could be the chosen Heirs of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw? Perhaps Sprout? And Flitwick? No...he was part-goblin…

"Harry, concentrate."

Harry closed his eyes and let his mind's barrier down. He could hear Fawkes the Phoenix crooning in the corner, could hear Dumbledore's many magical instruments whirring and spinning. But Harry could not see anything where Dumbledore was standing...other than black.

"It's not something you can see with your physical eyes, Harry. Your inner eye is the only thing that can help you with this, which is why many wizards never learn how to become Legilimens. You could try every day and still never accomplish it. It is one of the most difficult professions of magic," Dumbledore continued. "Now, it will take time for you to be able to distinguish auras. There are those, however, who are blessed with the Sight without any training—your friend Luna Lovegood is one of them. Even Professor Trelawney—although she can only truly prophesy once every ten years—can sometimes see my own aura. Auras usually manifest to the inner eye as colors, sounds, scents, feelings...some even manifest as their Patronus or Animagus forms. The only way to enter into someone's mind is through this. Your homework, then, is to practice. Know your friends—try to understand what makes them behave as they do..."

Dumbledore kept talking, but all Harry could think about was—

_What friends?_

They practiced more with Harry trying Legilimens, but he couldn't get the hang of it.

"Come, Harry, you can do this."

But Harry couldn't do this.

Dumbledore finally had to admit defeat.

"Here. Let's practice your Occlumency some more as a warm up. Ready? _Legilimens!"_

Harry was far too distracted to throw up his mind barriers in time. At once, Ron and Hermione and everything they had been through the last few months came straight into his thoughts.

Including the conversation that he had with them both before their fight happened. The memory flooded his senses. They were sitting in front of the fireplace and Hermione was telling him that Voldemort was after her and Ron. Harry's grief and helplessness at this came back.

Then Voldemort's name drifted through the front of his mind and Harry violently reacted.

He threw up his defenses and forced Dumbledore out with such a force that Harry suddenly found himself inside a small cottage, looking at Moony and talking with him about the Founders' Gifts, and there was a problem with the Hufflepuff chalice. It wasn't in the vault anymore, and there was Moony holding it and he knew just what to do with it...where it should go...

"_Remus, I trust you,"_ said Harry. "_I need you to get this to him—"_

And then he was gone, out of the cottage, and back in Dumbledore's office, standing dazed and confused, and Dumbledore stumbled back, just as exhausted as he felt.

"Was that...was I...were we…"

"Yes, Harry. You just successfully performed Legilimency on me," said Dumbledore. His face was impassive though.

"But that's great!" Harry exclaimed. "It was such an exhilarating feeling, I could sense your aura and I knew where you were and—!"

"Harry!" Dumbledore interrupted, rather sharply. "Tell me what that memory was about. With Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. _What does she mean, Voldemort is after them?"_

Harry's grin wiped clean off his face. He paled.

After everything that happened, his fight with Ron and Hermione, the owl after Neville, the trip to Hogsmeade, Ron's attack, Hermione's attack, Mr. Weasley defeating the Death Eaters, Hermione accusing Malfoy… Harry had completely forgotten to tell the Headmaster about what they learned regarding Voldemort's mission.

Elated no longer, Harry finally told him.

* * *

The dreariness Harry felt continued on till the next day.

After he had told Dumbledore everything that he, Ron, and Hermione postulated, Dumbledore was gravely still. And then the preparations began. Harry didn't know much, but Moony told him later that the Order took the Grangers and the Weasleys all into hiding.

They weren't the only ones. Because nobody knew what Voldemort really wanted Ron and Hermione for, Dumbledore went and visited the Dursleys, taking them to a safe house as well. Even Neville's Gran had to move out of her house and go stay with unknown relatives, Neville told him glumly over breakfast.

"This is just a precaution, Harry," said Moony. "Just in case Voldemort is targeting all those you love to get to you, not just Ron and Hermione."

To make things far worse, the Hogwarts staff and the patrolling Aurors took to guarding Ron and Hermione and even Harry. They could be seen tailing them from class to class and escorting Ron and Harry to the Hogwarts pitch for practices, or Hermione to the library.

Ron and Hermione were beyond furious at this.

And it was all because of Harry.

He found himself on a Wednesday after classes with nothing to do—and as he no longer had any friends—Harry was trying to decide how best to pass the time. He normally would have found Ginny, as she seemed the only person who wanted to be with him, but she had landed herself in the hospital wing after an acidic mishap in Potions class on Friday and was expected to stay there all day.

Harry had just ditched his own Auror guard at the hospital wing while visiting her (Harry spilled a bone-growing potion on a cut in Ketchins' hand making multiple new fingers grow out of him) when he heard an ear-splitting crash.

It had come from the prefects' bathroom on the fourth floor.

He sighed, drew his wand, and changed directions. As soon as he opened the door, he knew he had walked in on something.

There was broken glass covering the floor, and Draco Malfoy stood hunched at the sink, back to Harry. His fist was bloody, his shirt even more so, and the smaller, dark-haired Meghan Freeman stood next to him.

Harry hardly had time to think about what, in Merlin's good name, Meghan Freeman was doing with Malfoy. Because of the now-broken mirror, neither of them had seen Harry yet. In a split-second decision, Harry ducked into the first stall, and peered at their backs through the crack.

"I hate my father!" Draco hissed. "I hate that I look like him, I hate that I share his name, I hate—"

"No, you don't, Draco," said Meghan Freeman. If Harry didn't know any better, it sounded like she was talking to Malfoy with concern. "You don't hate him, you just...don't understand him."

"What's there to understand? He's raised me my whole life to be the smaller version of him. I had to wear the same clothes he did, be in the same House he was in, have the same enemies he does, wear the same Mark he does...they'll be branding me any month now. The Dark Lord doesn't even want to wait until I turn seventeen—"

"Is—is that still on, then? I thought that ever since—"

"Ever since _what?_ Ever since my father failed the Dark Lord at turning Harry Potter or the prophecy in? Ever since he got them all captured and shoved into Azkaban? Ever since he lost the Dark Lord's highest position at the Ministry, and his cover to boot? Ever since he lost the Dark Lord the biggest thing he had going for him—his secrecy? I know how they think!" Draco Malfoy said angrily. "They think my father deserves to be tortured and killed for what he did!"

"It doesn't matter what they think!" said Meghan Freeman. "You are all that matters! Now that he's out in the open, he's going to need as much help as he can get at Hogwarts. Nott's already going to get the Mark come Christmas, as will Crabbe, and Goyle. There are others, too, although I'm not sure whether they've swayed Blaise yet. Are you going to join them as well?"

"It doesn't matter, either way. The Dark Lord has given my family one last chance. If he screws this one up, I'm screwed as well. He'll be offing us all. And if we succeed...I'll be getting the Mark, joining the lot of them and become Daddy's good little boy yet again." Malfoy spat into the sink bitterly. "Just wait till I get my hands on that—"

Harry slipped in a puddle of water—that is, he sure _hoped _it was just water—next to the toilet. At once, he caught himself, and strained his ears for Malfoy and Freeman. They had stopped talking. He sighed in relief when Malfoy turned the water on and started washing his hand off. "Come, Meghan. Don't want to be late for our next prefect meeting. _Reparo!"_

The glass on the ground flew back to the wall and repaired itself, and Draco Malfoy and Meghan Freeman strode out of the room. Harry let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He used the loo (well, he was already in the stall, so might as well) and washed his hands.

But as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom—

A spell struck him—square in the chest—

Harry's mind barriers were up in an instant—as was the rest of him.

He barely had time to blink before he was hoisted up high into the air by his ankle and thrown….

Upside-down.

His wand and bag fell to the floor, and his shirt hung down into his bright red face.

The sneering laugh of a blond Slytherin reached his ears. Draco Malfoy stood before him, smirking, wand trained at Harry.

"So, Potter. Thought you could spy on me, did you? Thought I wouldn't notice?" he said, eyes gleaming.

"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry shouted, swinging in the air. "I didn't hear anything!"

"I bet. And just so you know—everything I said in there was for your benefit. I knew you were in there all along. I _staged_ it! I knew you'd fall for it, as gullible as you are—"

Harry felt his face redden as he realized what Malfoy was saying.

"You took the Mark already, didn't you?" said Harry, heart beating furiously fast.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" snapped Malfoy.

Perhaps it was the elation at becoming an accomplished Occlumens; or maybe it was everything that had happened with Ron and Hermione coming to a head. Whatever it was, Harry felt all the blood rushing to his brain and a heady sense of recklessness and arrogance wash over him.

"I bet _Daddy's_ right proud of you," he snarled at Malfoy. "I bet he tucks you in every night, kisses you on the cheek, helps you say a little bedtime prayer. He must be the best dad in the world—patting your head and sending you straight to Voldemort so you can learn to be a good little murderer, and know how to suck up to the Dark Lord's arse. I bet you're good at it too. You're not going to get in trouble for doing a bad job like Daddy. You'll sure show him—"

"Shut up!" said Malfoy, dangerously. Harry had hit a nerve.

"What's the matter? Afraid you're going to make a little slip, too? Frightened Voldemort's going to see right through your disguise and see you for what you are—a scared-shitless little boy who's afraid he's going to be too much like his jail-bird father and make the evil baddie mad—"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

Malfoy's wand-arm wavered, and Harry felt a plummet in his stomach as Malfoy almost lost control of keeping Harry levitated.

At that moment, Peeves the Poltergeist heard the shouting, and came to investigate. As soon as he saw Harry at the wand of Malfoy, he gave a gleeful grin.

"FIGHT! FIGHT IN THE CORRIDOR! FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!"

Harry closed his eyes and fervently willed himself to disapparate.

Students filed out from the neighboring rooms and corridors—laughter soon split the hall when they saw Harry dangling upside-down, stomach and chest bare.

He was completely on display.

Encouraged by the jeering and taunting, Malfoy drew himself up.

"You think you can fight Death Eaters now?" he sneered. He moved his wand up and down, then side to side, making Harry move crazily across the air. "What're you going to do—singe their hats with a curse? Make them wobble a bit?"

Peeves had now taken to poking Harry's bellybutton. He got a magic marker from one of the empty classrooms and started drawing figures on Harry's bare stomach. Malfoy kept taunting him, the crowd kept laughing, Peeves kept drawing...but Harry didn't hear any of it.

Ron had just walked into the corridor.

Harry at once felt a feeling of relief—Ron would fix everything, he'd see that arguing with Harry wasn't as bad as this and get Harry down—it would be all right—

But Ron was doing no such thing. A minute passed, and Ron was just looking at the scene with a set face—not laughing with everyone else—but not trying to break it up either. He just stared.

Stared...and did nothing.

Malfoy continued. "So this is the physique of the one who's supposed to save us all from the evil villain? The wizarding world is going to be 'reclaimed' on the back of this scrawny oaf?"

He laughed. Half of the crowd did, too.

"_I_ heard you were shagging Granger in the broom closet. I wonder what _she_ thinks of—?"

"ENOUGH!"

Remus Lupin strode into the hall, gray cloak billowing behind him, eyes blazing with fury. Even upside-down, Harry could tell he'd never seen Moony that angry before. The ground beneath him seemed to crackle with every footstep as the Dean of Hogwarts came nearer.

"Draco, let him down _now_," said Moony.

If Harry expected Malfoy to protest, whine about ruining the fun, or simply sneer at their werewolf of a professor, he was wrong. Guilty and pink in the face, Malfoy made a swift move and Harry was sent crashing to the floor.

Moony looked at the crowd still gathered around. "Leave us. _Now."_

Alarmed, they moved away, not wanting to make him angrier.

"You too, Freeman. Weasley."

Ron was the last to leave. Harry didn't look at him as he gently removed himself off the floor. Moony turned back to Malfoy and Harry.

"Where did you learn that spell, Draco?" said Moony.

"A book," said Malfoy, scowling.

"I'm sure Professor Snape will be most interested to know _which _book," Moony continued. He scrutinized the blond Slytherin. "I am most disappointed in you, Draco. After I vouched for you...this is how you repay me? It seems you are in need of my lessons now more than ever. I'm assigning you detentions every week until the end of term. You are dismissed."

Perplexed, Harry looked from Moony to Malfoy. Questions shot around his brain. _Why does Moony keep calling him by his first name? Why would he vouch for Malfoy? What lessons is he talking about and why does he sound like a disappointed father?_

But most importantly—_Why is Malfoy actually listening to him?_

And he was—Malfoy couldn't stop scowling at the floor, and Harry saw him give an almost imperceptible nod at Moony's last words before walking away.

"Are you all right, Harry?" said Moony finally, turning to him.

Harry shrugged. "My ego's just sunk lower than the dungeons...but yeah. I'm not hurt or anything."

"That's good...I thought..." said Moony, then shook his head. "If you'd like to walk with me, Harry, I wish to speak with you about something."

Harry fell into step beside the werewolf as he stepped onto the revolving staircase that led straight to the third floor. "Sir, what was that thing with Malfoy about?"

"Draco and I have an understanding."

"But what—"

"That is between him and me, Harry," said Moony, finality in his voice.

They walked past the Serpentine Corridor.

"But I overheard him and Meghan Freeman talking—that's why he hung me up in the air—he was saying how much he hated Lucius Malfoy—he punched a mirror because of it, and told me he didn't mean any of that stuff I heard him talking about—but he must've been lying. He's going to take the Mark before he turns seventeen—he probably already has it! Nott and Crabbe and Goyle are going to get it during Christmas break—"

"Harry—"

"—and he said that Lucius Malfoy is out of prison! Voldemort sprung him out! They were talking about his father, and Malfoy said that Voldemort is giving his family one more chance to prove themselves!"

"Harry!"

"Don't you _get_ it? There's going to be another attack any day now! You need to tell Dumbledore—this is important—!"

"_I know!"_ Moony whispered. They had reached his office. "I know this is important, Harry, which is why the entire school cannot hear about it, do you understand?"

Harry blinked in realization.

Moony cast a Silencing Charm around his door before sitting behind his desk.

Looking around the room, Harry noticed he'd never been in the Dean's office before. It was much like how the older man had kept his old office back in third year—minus the cages of Dark creatures.

"Listen, Harry. There is a lot going on that you don't know about—and don't be asking me, I can't give away Order secrets. But you need to understand that Professor Dumbledore knows a lot more about his students than you give him credit for. He knows about the decision facing the sixth- and seventh-year Slytherins and he's doing everything he can to sway their decisions. That's partly why I'm here—to help him in that," said Moony.

"Malfoy's detentions..." Harry realized. "McGonagall gave him loads of them with just you during that fight we had on the grounds. And then just barely...were those the lessons you were talking about?"

"As I have said before, Harry, I cannot say," said Moony wearily. He rubbed at his eyes and Harry saw just how tired he was. "The reason I wanted you in here to talk with you was because of what you told Sirius and me last year—what you saw in the Pensieve. I realize the spell Draco Malfoy used on you was the same spell your father used on Professor Snape, and I wondered if you wanted to talk about it..."

Harry reddened and he fingered his robes. "Yeah, I noticed the resemblance between me and what Dad did to Snape while I was dangling in the air. It was significantly less hilarious the second time around," he muttered. "What spell was that, anyway? What kind of book is Malfoy reading? Are we ever going to learn _that_ one in Defense?"

"No," said Moony, sighing. "That spell—is not a patented spell. I'm not sure Professor Snape will be too keen on me telling you this, but...he invented that hex, Harry. When he was fifteen. He made up loads of spells, actually, and used them all frequently. Your father and Sirius stole his books one day in our fifth year just for the fun of it—we found that he had written many spells and class tips in the margins of his Potions book. Then they started using them. I imagine it must have been quite humiliating for Severus, knowing that his school enemy was using his own devices against him."

"Wait—_he made it up?"_

"Severus Snape is a very gifted wizard. Yes, he has many faults and issues that he will never truly get over, but he remains to this day one of the most powerful wizards of my generation. He graduated from our class with marks even higher than James—I believe it was the main reason Voldemort desperately wanted him on their side—"

Harry couldn't believe it.

_Snape is the fifth person! The one Jones was talking about—there was her, Edgar Bones, Dad, Mum...and Severus Snape! I should've seen it—she said he was at Hogwarts. But I didn't even realize—_Professor Snape!

He noticed something else. "So...if Malfoy knows the spell...then that must mean Snape is secretly teaching him!"

"Not...necessarily, Harry. I know for a fact that he is doing nothing of the sort. It is far more plausible that Draco simply found Severus's old book and is using the spells in it to his advantage, as well as the Potions techniques that Snape has discovered—"

"He is! I remember now—in Potions, Ernie Macmillan must've switched the books, because Malfoy already had a brand-new copy, and he made a fuss at Ernie for giving him the old one—I distinctly remember that part because Snape told him off for it, and he _never _does that—and Hermione was saying just the other week how good Malfoy's got at Potions—he's beaten her, for crying out loud! That must be the reason—he's got Snape's old book!" Harry finished triumphantly.

"Yes, well I'll be speaking to Professor Snape about it—I'm not sure he would want that book getting around. As I remember, there are a few Dark curses in there..." said Moony. He trailed off, looking at his desk. "But there's something else, Harry..."

Harry's heart plummeted for the second time that day, but it wasn't because of Malfoy this time. _He wants to talk about Sirius—I know he's dying to, he gets this look on his face every time Sirius' name comes up—_

"I want to speak with you about Ron and Hermione."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I know there's something going on between you three—the entire school knows—but I believe I know what this is really about."

"You...do?"

"I overheard Ron and Ginny Weasley talking to each other. They thought they were alone—they said something about the prophecy—"

Harry sucked in his breath.

"You're lucky I was the one who overheard them and not someone else. Dumbledore has told me what the prophecy says. You cannot imagine how greatly the news disturbed me..." he shook his head sadly, eyes troubled. "But, Harry, you cannot just deal this information out to whomever you like, do you understand? Ron and Hermione are one thing—I wouldn't dream of making you keep something from them, and I bet you told them first thing when you found out—but they have _got_ to use secrecy whenever discussing it! That prophecy is the one thing we have going for us in this war. Voldemort does not know what the latter half of it implies, he does not know that you are crucial to his survival, and _he must never know!"_

Harry felt the now-familiar rise of humiliation again. Dumbledore had entrusted him with the greatest secret he had—and now half the school was in danger of finding it out.

"I am not saying this to shame you, Harry. I am saying this because there is something very dangerous going on at Hogwarts. Especially with this new information that Voldemort is after Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore has given me leave enough to tell you this, and I'm now afraid that I must..."

He got up abruptly and paced around the room. He seemed to be having an internal battle on whether to tell Harry or not.

Intrigued, Harry leaned forward, watching his professor's every move.

"Now, you must understand, Harry, this information cannot leave this room. What I am about to tell you is something only the most trusted teachers and Order members know about. I know that you're going to tell them no matter what I say, but if you have to tell Ron or Hermione, _please _make sure that absolutely no one is listening in. They are much more susceptible in giving this information away than you are. Not willingly, of course—I would never dream they'd tell anyone untrustworthy. I know you lot. But they have not yet learned Occlumency and the enemy has...many ways to draw things out of one's memory. It is because you have learned this that Dumbledore has given me permission to pass this knowledge on to you. "

He sat back down, and looked at Harry gravely.

"There is a spy at Hogwarts."

Harry had not expected this; his eyebrows shot up.

"Okaaaay..." he said slowly. "But we already knew that—Snape is the spy."

"No, Harry. You misunderstand," said Moony. "We know for a fact that Voldemort has sent a spy to Hogwarts—he does not trust that Snape is who he says he is, and has sent one of his Death Eaters to check up on him. That is why this information has been given only to those Dumbledore knows for a certainty he can trust. This spy could be any one of us—an Auror guard, a teacher, a student...an Animagus, even. As of yet, we have no sure way to find out."

Harry furrowed his brow, thinking. "You said...Voldemort has sent this spy to Hogwarts?"

"Yes..."

"_Sent_...as in, he wasn't here before. So...wouldn't all you have to do is look at the people who are new here? That narrows the list considerably—Professor Jones, Viktor Krum, you, all the Aurors patrolling the castle...it could be any one of them. The Ministry sent them, didn't they? Wouldn't that be Voldemort's safest bet?"

Moony smiled kindly. "We have considered that, yes. But just because Voldemort has just 'sent' this spy, it does not mean that he didn't do it with help of the Dark Arts. There are many different ways this could have been done, Harry. Yes, he could have just sent someone new...but that would have been all too obvious. It is more likely that he turned someone here who had been wavering on the side of good—or _forcibly_ turned them and is now using blackmail, or the Imperius Curse, as means to control them.

"It is also possible that he has killed someone here and sent a double in their place—if not by means of the Polyjuice Potion, then through a Glamour or Bedazzlement Charm. It might not even be someone tangible—we cannot rule out invisibility cloaks or charms, which is why former Auror Alastor Moody has been called to services. And then again, an Animagus certainly can't be left out of the equation, which makes our search twice as difficult. It could be anybody's pet, it could be an unsuspecting spider or insect—Wormtail, or Rita Skeeter, even. An inhabitant of the Forbidden Forest, one of Hagrid's monstrous pets, a school _owl_...

"We are doing everything in our power to narrow the suspects, I can assure you. This is simply far too enormous of a problem to be resolved within a week. That is why it is increasingly difficult to talk safely anywhere—if you had told Ron and Ginny about the prophecy in the common room, say, you may have been overheard by a Gryffindor's pet rat."

"And...if it were one of the students?"

"Well, that certainly can't be ruled out. As I've said, any student, especially one with Death Eater relatives, could have been swayed or Polyjuiced or Imperiused—"

Harry studied Moony's desk. "Or offered a slot in their ranks?"

"It _is _possible, yes, but—"

"I bet it's Malfoy," he said quietly.

"Sorry?"

He looked up. "Malfoy. No, listen, it all makes sense!" said Harry, getting up and pacing. "When I overheard him talking in the bathroom, he kept saying how much he hated his father. At first, I thought this was odd, but I understand now! Draco hates his father because he messed up last June. Draco feels humiliated because ofthats mistake, and now he's out to prove he's better than his father—and what better way than being made a spy for Voldemort? The Dark Git Lord has already said Lucius will get one more chance—maybe it's through Draco! In fact, on the train ride here, Malfoy came into our compartment and as good as told us that he was a messenger for Voldemort! He's dying to prove himself—"

"Harry, that is enough!" said Moony sharply. "I did not tell you this so that you could accuse anyone. I just need you to be on the lookout. If you notice anything suspicious, come see me or Dumbledore immediately! Don't go off trying to be a hero like last year, do you understand? There is help at Hogwarts—you _must_ use it! I cannot be responsible for you risking your life for anyone—_especially Ron and Hermione!_—I know you hate to believe it, but your life is more important than anyone else's! What do you think Sirius would say if he knew you were throwing it away, after everything he did to ensure—"

Moony stopped at the look on Harry's face. He took a deep breath and sighed, then said—

"Harry, I know if there is anyone you look up to as a father-figure...Sirius would have been it. I do not wish to replace that at all...but...you have always been as a son to me as well, Harry. From the moment I had to take care of you from that dementor in the train that year. Look, I understand if this isn't reciprocated...but it's there all the same. I simply couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. I lost your mother, your father, Peter, Sirius..." he paused, his voice breaking. For one alarming second, Harry thought Moony was going to cry. "I can't lose you too, Harry. I could _never_ lose you."

Harry did not know what made him do it.

It might have been Moony's speech.

It might have been Malfoy humiliating him like that.

It might have been knowing that Ron had been there, watching.

It could possibly have been the overwhelming loneliness he'd been feeling the past few weeks.

It could have been having to face the ramifications of the prophecy again.

It could have been Ron and Hermione refusing to speak to him.

Very likely it was the overwhelming fear of Voldemort trying to capture Ron and Hermione just to get at Harry.

It was, of course, the result of weeks of stress, of months of keeping it all in, of years of loneliness and destitution.

Whatever the matter, it simply happened.

Before Harry knew it, he was holding Remus Lupin tightly, sobbing into his robes, letting out all of his grief and frustration and loneliness. At once, Moony held him in his arms, uttering calming noises, giving Harry the opportunity to let it all out.

And it was at this moment that Moony became far more like a father than Harry ever realized_._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**You reviewed, so I answered! Thanks so much, it really helps a LOT to keep my focus on this and not on the million other things I have to focus on right now. You'd think with the coronavirus and the social distancing and the shelter-in-place and the surgery and the earthquake that I would be able to stay at home and just write all day, but nooooooo. I still have to go to work, because my job is just that important. Yaay me.**

**Next chapter! "Slithering with Serpents", already written because I'm just that awesome. And might I just give a Shout Out to Iris129 for her awesome reviews in telling me what she likes and doesn't like about each chapter! And also for pointing out a plot hole that I didn't know I had. Because this is my 5th draft in writing this story, I've been adding in more and more drama and action scenes cuz they are awesome, and I thought I plugged up all the holes before posting, but oh wells! So I did edit ch20 to include Harry telling Ron and Hermione that he was for sure going to tell Dumbledore about Voldemort being after them BEFORE Hogsmeade, not after. Because that would have been the SMART thing to do, damn you, Harry. Thanks for being patient with me! This is great practice for writing a real book, although even posting chapter-by-chapter after 5 drafts proves that there are SO many plots and subplots and hints and mysteries and drama that it's proving VERY hard to keep track of them all!**

**If anyone wants to drop me a hint and say "Pssst! When will we see Grawp?" or "Hey! Whatever happened to that purple beaded bag Hermione got for her birthday?" or whatever else floats your boat (yeah, yeah, I'm working on those...), feel free to! **

**Cheers!**


	26. Slithering with Serpents

**SLITHERING WITH SERPENTS**

Over the next few days, Harry began watching Malfoy like a hawk.

He had taken to leaving the Marauder's Map in his bag, and checking it after each class to see if Malfoy did anything suspicious at all. Regardless of what Moony had told him, he knew that Malfoy was the spy, and was determined at all costs to catch him in the act.

_Course, it would be loads easier if I was an accomplished Legilimens already_—_all I'd have to do is read Malfoy's mind and know for a fact._

As neither Ron nor Hermione were speaking to him, Harry could not get close enough to practice on them. He tried on Ginny once—but couldn't get past anything other than how red her hair was and how nice she smelled. Several times, he even tried to do it on Malfoy in Potions class. However, he only succeeded in giving himself a headache, and making Snape and Malfoy both think he had something in his eye.

After just a day of this, Harry knew he had to up the stakes. Thus, with most of his spare time, he followed Malfoy around the corridors in his Invisibility Cloak.

He noticed that the blond Slytherin was spending a lot of his time alone. Instead of having Crabbe and Goyle flanked on either side—as was usual the past five years they'd been at Hogwarts—he hardly ever spent any time with them now. And it wasn't just Crabbe and Goyle…

Harry hadn't noticed it before, but it seemed like the whole Slytherin house was beginning to avoid Draco Malfoy. This only made Harry even more determined to find out what Malfoy was doing, and catch him in the act.

_I need to follow him, _thought Harry one day, in the middle of October. _He never says anything where others can hear him, not since he knew I was listening in the bathroom. It doesn't do me any good to follow him in the corridors..._

_I need to know where he does most of his talking and boasting. A place where he doesn't put on a front, where he's not as he appears to be in front of everyone else...I need to go where he feels safest... _

And that is how Harry snuck into the Slytherin common room.

* * *

"Sir—professor—"

Hermione jogged to catch up with her Potions master in the dungeon corridor, but he didn't appear to be slowing down. "_Sir_—"

Professor Snape abruptly turned and Hermione almost bumped into him. She pulled herself up just in time, looking up at him, startled.

"Thank you, sir," she said, voice clipped from his obvious snub.

Potions class had just got out. And Hermione, who had been waiting for quite a while to catch her surly professor at a good time, had picked that moment to talk to him about the Wolflord Potion. Malfoy and Nott both had their cure for boils looking far better than any of the other Houses, so he was in a more pleasant mood than usual. Unfortunately for her, she spent extra time putting her cauldron ingredients away in an effort to wait till everyone else trickled out of the room...only to realize he was leaving with them.

Hence the hurry.

And now, after having caught up with him, Hermione waited till the last of the students (Malfoy, of course) sauntered up the stairs, leaving them alone, before opening her mouth.

"Professor, I need to speak with you about something."

The vexation on his face was overt.

"Then. _Speak."_

Hermione clutched her books tighter to her chest. She saw his eyes glance down at them and felt a bit of pride at their titles and depth. They were all about werewolves and the more advanced potions that she thought might contain the potion she was looking for.

They didn't.

Snape's eyes paused a moment on the titles that he could see, then flitted back up to her face, and she could tell he knew what she was going to ask. Of course he had heard about Greyback attacking her and Viktor. All the staff members had, no doubt. She'd seen more than one glance of pity and concern thrown her way.

But it wasn't pity she wanted from Severus Snape.

Simply enlightenment.

"Sir...when Greyback attacked me, it wasn't a full moon. Nor was the moon even out at all. And he wasn't completely transformed. He was...shall we put it bluntly...half-and-half," she stated.

A glimmer of a twitch appeared on the side of his mouth.

_Was that a smile?_

But she took no apparent notice of it, for fear of scaring him away.

Her next words, precise and measured, had been practiced in front the mirror several times in preparation for this very moment. "Professor Lupin told me about the Wolflord Potion, sir. I was wondering if you have any information on it at all that you could give me so I can research the potentiality of an antidote. And, providing there is no such cure, perhaps I could be of service in creating one."

He studied her for a moment, eyes guarded, regurgitating the proper answer. Of course, no compliment would ever come out of those lips, but still...a simple 'yes' was all she needed. Or at the very least, something that was not a 'no'.

And, Merlin abroad, was that a glint of approval in his eyes?

"I will...see what I can do, Miss Granger."

That was _decidedly _better than a 'no'.

Hermione beamed. "Thank you, professor!" she said, then hurried up the steps before he could change his mind.

Life was assuredly looking up.

* * *

Harry decided to do it after dinner—that way, Malfoy would be sure to go straight down into the dungeons, and Harry figured he would be the most talkative.

Almost everyone went straight to their common rooms or dorms after dinner. Harry guessed he maybe had an hour, two at most, before curfew. All the years previous, the prefects started patrolling then; this year, however, they had been instructed to start patrolling as soon as dinner. If he wasn't careful, he'd run right into one of them. Even with the Cloak, running into someone was risky.

All through dinner, he kept glancing over at the Slytherin table dodgedly. Every time a Slytherin stood up, Harry half-stood before realizing it wasn't Malfoy.

After his fifth time doing this, Ginny sighed irritably.

"Harry, what is the matter with you?" she said, looking at him sideways. "I haven't seen anyone this jumpy since Fred and George enhanced a Muggle boy's pogo stick."

"Just...nervous," he said truthfully.

"You're not still thinking about Malfoy hexing you, are you? He's not going to do it again—there's no way he'd risk getting more detentions and losing more house points. Besides, even if he did, I'm sure it wasn't all that bad..."

"You weren't there," Harry said darkly into his goulash.

"But I heard Ron was," Ginny said, scowling as well and stabbing her carrot. "I sure gave him a piece of my mind when I found out."

Harry looked over at the far end of the table where Ron was chatting with Dean and Seamus. The three of them suddenly rolled over in laughter.

"I'm sure he's not talking about you," said Ginny, seeing Harry's face.

"Wanna bet?" said Harry glumly.

No bets could be made at that time, however, for Draco Malfoy just stood up.

"You know what?" Harry said, thinking up a quick lie, "I really don't want to be here right now, even if Ron's not talking about me. I'm just...I'm going to bed."

"Are you sure? I've got prefect patrol tonight—you could come with if you'd like—get your mind off things," she said hopefully.

"No, I think I'll just...I'm really tired. Sorry. Good night, Gin," he replied, hurrying out of the Great Hall.

As soon as he reached the entrance hall, he saw Malfoy's robes whip around the corner to the dungeons.

_Here goes nothing,_ thought Harry and, checking first to make sure he was alone, he pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of his robes and threw it over his head.

He hurried after the Slytherin.

* * *

Ron was bloody miserable.

Never before had his life been so wretched. The Cruciatus aside. He was morose in the mornings when he woke up, he was despondent during the day, and he was in a bleeding blue funk at night in bed.

Life could seriously not get any worse.

Ron's parents were in hiding. Ron lost his two best friends. As a result of losing Hermione, he wasn't doing so great in his classes. As a result of losing Harry, he wasn't getting that Dreamless Sleep potion that Harry kept spiking his pumpkin juice with, so now he kept having nightmares about Death Eaters and curses. Quidditch practices were hell. He had to be followed around everywhere by an effing guard (or when Ron didn't have the luxury of ditching him, like he'd done just now). And Harry and Hermione were...at least, he saw them...and they must be...and now everyone was talking about the two of them…

_Being together._

Plus You-Know-Fucking-Who was after him.

Really, he didn't know which, out of all those grievances, was the worst.

So it wasn't any wonder, really, that he turned the corner on his way up to his dorm after dinner, and saw that someone was following him. He whirled around, wand out, and found himself face-to-face with four Slytherins in an otherwise-empty corridor.

"Why, Weasley," said Nott, grinning over at him. "Just the piss-poor pauper we wanted to see…"

Ron swore and deflected Wilkes' hex just in time. But he did not see the non-verbal serpent curse that Crabbe threw at the same time.

Ron stared in horror as the twenty-foot-long python slithered towards him. Its massive size was rather impressive, but Ron was _not _about to go and congratulate Crabbe on his freaking Transfiguration skills.

And then the python lunged.

* * *

Feeling that perhaps he'd been using the Cloak far too much lately, Harry made his steps as quiet as possible. Malfoy wasn't with anyone—in fact, Harry realized he'd seen Malfoy alone a lot lately.

They both walked down more and more staircases—Malfoy not realizing he was being followed—until they reached the long, blank wall that Harry vaguely remembered from second year.

"_Cruor ex inimicus,_" said the Slytherin.

Harry looked around as the wall before them began to open up, all the bricks shoving each other aside like Diagon Alley's entrance at the Leaky Cauldron. He moved closer to Malfoy to prevent the bricks shutting on him as they stepped into the room.

The Slytherin common room looked just as Harry remembered it from his second year—albeit, quite a bit smaller than his twelve-year-old self remembered. It was round, like the Gryffindors', but had a rather low ceiling and the walls and floors were all made of black onyx. Eerie green lights hung from the ceiling, the few rugs on the floor were green and silver, and the curtains that adorned the round windows (Harry could see fish moving behind the thick glass and realized they were looking right into the Hogwarts lake) were the same shade. Even the fire in the grate had a sickly greenish tinge to it.

Malfoy walked around the black leather couches that some sixth-years were sitting in.

Harry had to dodge a mousy-looking boy with long hair in his hurry to follow him. He quickly moved over to the wall so he'd be out of the way.

"Aww, look, Thorgood, it's your auntie's favorite nephew," cooed one of the girls, spotting Malfoy.

Thorgood Rowle, a big blond seventh-year, looked over and sneered. "I bet Aunty Bella's rethinking her decision to train Malfoy Junior over the summer. Occlumency and Dark spells, wasn't it? Trying to help him become greater than her screwed up brother-in-law, no doubt. I guess she thought if she did a good enough job, the Malfoy name won't be mud, now Lucius has duped it. They're all as good as dead anyway."

Malfoy stopped, nostrils flaring.

A small black girl Harry had passed—whom he now recognized as Meghan Freeman, from the Shrieking Shack—looked over at Malfoy, worried.

For a second, Harry thought the blond sixth-year was going to slip his wand out, but he just sat down at the hard-backed chair beside a few bookcases and picked up a book. Confused, Harry wondered why Malfoy didn't jump up and hex them.

"He's going to be snivelling to Dumbledore any day now, so he can be saved from the evil monster," another girl named Daphne Greengrass sneered. "Although he's been hanging out with that werewolf often enough. We know they're not detentions, Malfoy. Any old blind hag can tell you're going to sell us out once your daddy's dead. Never thought you'd do it to the half-breed, but that's blood loyalty for you."

"Shut up, half-blood!" Malfoy hissed. "He's _nothing _to me!"

The walled entrance opened again and a few boys in their year entered. Nott, Wilkes, Crabbe, and Goyle all sauntered over, in great hoots about something.

"Why'd you leave so soon, Draco, you missed the party," said Wilkes. "We caught Weasley just as he was coming out of dinner. Hexed a snake at him. Scared him senseless for a month."

Harry pursed his lips, the grip on his wand tightening.

"Until the werewolf showed up, anyhow," Crabbe scowled. "I hope Fenrir Greyback finishes Lupin off soon—he's been dying to ever since he first bit him."

Harry's hands shook with fury. He had heard about Fenrir Greyback from Moony over the summer—he was the reason Moony was a werewolf.

And the one who attacked Hermione.

"Why, what's the matter?" said Daphne Greengrass, coming forward and looking at Malfoy's face. "Is widdle Dwaco fwightened for his favorite teacher now? Afraid he's not going to get any more detentions with Uncle Werewolf?"

"I couldn't care less about that mongrel and his so-called detentions," Malfoy hissed. "He can kiss my arse, for all I care."

"Is that what you're going to say to the Dark Lord when he asks if you'll join him?" said a tall, dark boy. Harry recognized this to be Harper—he was the reserve Seeker and in Harry's year, although was dumb enough that he had to repeat a year.

Harper put on a whiny voice. "'Sure, Dark Lord, I'll take the mark, but can I get one of those stick-ons instead? I don't want anyone to know, see, when I switch sides. I need to have room for my arse-kissing werewolf tattoo!'"

The Slytherins listening in laughed. Malfoy's ears turned pink, but his eyes remained trained on the book.

"You mean _if _he asks, Harper," corrected Rowle. "I doubt that's going to happen any time soon. Unless Lucius stops fumbling around and gives the Dark Lord what he needs. I hear it's going to be any day now—looks like your father's going to be proving to everyone what he really is soon enough, Draco—a blood traitor!"

Malfoy at once stood up, wand raised—

Out of nowhere, Blaise Zabini appeared and took his arm. "Let it go, Draco."

"Shove your arse out of this, Zabini. Nobody cares what you think—you're just a bastard son," sneered Theodore Nott, who had been standing in the corner with Crabbe and Goyle.

"And what do you know, _Teddy_?" snapped Rowle. "Everyone knows you're just trying to be the hotshot around here—why else do you act like Malfoy everywhere you go, taking his bloody cast-offs as well?"

Crabbe and Goyle both scowled at being referred to as 'cast-offs', but didn't make a move—Rowle was at least a foot taller and wider than them both.

Nott snapped back at Rowle, but Malfoy and Zabini paid them no mind and left down a dark corridor.

Harry hastily followed, though reluctant to leave the hostile room where everyone was against each other.

The corridor steeped downwards until they were descending steps that opened into a dormitory—the Slytherin sixth-years' dorm. It looked rather like Harry's, but the furniture was, again, black and green. The room was much tidier as well—perhaps they demanded the house-elves clean their room more often than the Gryffindors did.

Malfoy at once strode to his wardrobe and pulled something thin and silver out of it. Harry leaned closer, trying to see what it was, but Malfoy's hand was in the way.

"Good, it's safe," muttered Malfoy, tucking it under his robes.

Zabini sat down on one of the beds. "You shouldn't listen to them. I know this thing with your father has got you worried, but it'll be fine—"

"No, it won't!" snarled Malfoy, throwing his book across the room. "They're right, the lot of them—the Dark Lord is going to kill him—or worse. He's already pulled him out of Azkaban. We have only one more chance to fix this—if we fail, you can say goodbye to me now—I'll be as good as dead—"

"Then don't let it happen. Help your father."

"Believe me, I will," Malfoy hissed. "Once I find out if Snape's really a traitor to the Dark Lord or not. Mother's already got me asking around. But if they all think I'm going to go beg at Dumbledore, they've got another think coming. It all depends on Snape. This mission was entrusted to me, and I hate it more than anything, but...this is the only way to save our necks. Mother's counting on me now. If I screw up like my fool of a father..."

Harry couldn't believe his ears.

"What about you, Blaise? Are you going to take it?"

Blaise shrugged his shoulders smoothly. "It all depends on Mother. She's been rethinking her circles ever since the Dark Lord murdered Gibbon...she was shacking up with him..."

Harry was no longer listening.

He was backing up, heading down the long corridor, intent on getting out of there. He had to get out as quickly as he could—he had to tell someone—Moony, Dumbledore, anyone. He resurfaced in the Slytherin common room and bumped into Pansy Parkinson.

"Watch it, Davis!" she snapped at the girl next to her. "I don't want your half-blood slime getting on my new skirt..."

Harry made a beeline for the entrance wall, careful not to trod on anyone else. The wall opened as soon as he got there—several people looked to see who was coming in, but Harry didn't care.

As soon as he was shot of the place, he started running. He raced up the stairs and out of the dungeons, gaining speed as he ran—Dumbledore's office was right next to Moony's—

_I have to tell someone_—_I have to tell them—_

_Malfoy is the spy._

The castle was red from the light of the sunset as Harry raced through it.

Ten minutes of this, however, and Harry was no longer running; Quidditch training only kept him so fit. _Which idiot ever thought of stairs, anyway, _he thought as he faced his fifth set.

Malfoy's words kept running around his mind.

"_...once I find out if Snape's really a traitor to the Dark Lord or not...this mission was entrusted to me...if I screw up like my fool of a father..."_

He had just sprinted up the stairs to the third floor corridor when he heard voices. Quickly, he ducked around a tapestry—and then remembered he was invisible.

To Harry's utter surprise, Ron and Hermione came around the corner. They weren't together by choice, however, for they were in a heated argument.

"We already did this floor, Hermione. I would like to get to bed sometime tonight," said Ron sourly.

She answered scathingly. "Why? Don't want to miss a goodnight kiss, do you?"

"You're one to talk!" said Ron, ears burning red. "I heard Vicky gave you a _Love Locket_—just can't get enough of him, can you? I bet you wear it all the time...I'm sure your dreams are filled with the pair of you! In fact, I bet you're wearing it now. And that you just can't wait to meet up with him to have some sort of secret rendezvous. That's why you're combing the castle now, isn't it? Dragging me along just so you can go find him and—"

"I told you, Professor Dumbledore is not here tonight again, which means patrols are doubled! This has nothing to do with Viktor! If you don't like this, then take it up with Moony—"

Harry silently cursed. If the Headmaster was gone on another mission, who could he tell about Malfoy?

"Oh, _Moony, _is it? You and Lupin on a nickname basis now?" Ron snarled, switching tactics. "I expect you'll be going out with him any day now. After all, you seem to specialize in teachers—"

SMACK!

Harry stared flabbergasted when Hermione slapped Ron, who likewise stared at her, open-mouthed. Ron rubbed his cheek, surprised—she probably never hit him before—

_Can't say I didn't see that one coming, _thought Harry, impressed. _I'd have slapped him too..._

"Don't you _dare _say that about me!" she cried. "I don't—I would _never_—"

"I know!" Ron said quickly, alarmed at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"—for your information, I'm not even wearing the necklace Viktor gave me, and it isn't even a Love Locket anyway! And not that it's any of your business, but I'm not snogging Harry, either—_nor would I_—and as for Professor _Lupin_—! I—I—I _wouldn't_—he's like a _father_ to me—!"

"I know you'd never do that—I didn't mean—look, I'm sorry—"

Ron looked rather like he didn't know whether to put an arm around her or pat her shoulder. He settled for neither.

"I am too," she said miserably, all the fight gone out of her. "I hate fighting with you—it really shouldn't matter that I'm going with Viktor and you're going with Lavender—and your crude insinuations about Harry and me...Ron, _seriously..._I love him like a brother! He means _more _to me than that...oh, please, let's just stop fighting—"

Harry decided if he was going to do it, that now was as good a time as any. They were both in an apologizing mood—and if he didn't tell someone about Malfoy, he was simply going to burst.

He took a deep breath and moved forward.

"Look, I still hate the git, but—OW!"

"What—_hey_—!"

Harry had grabbed both their arms and dragged them into an empty room. Hermione's prefect badge fell unnoticed to the hallway floor. Ron dropped his cloak and tie. Instead of retrieving them, however, Harry locked the door behind the three of them and whipped off his Invisibility Cloak.

"_Harry!"_

Ron sounded accusing, but Hermione just sounded surprised.

In his desperation, Harry didn't even notice that the room he had dragged them into was the same one that housed Fluffy in their first year. Although the trapdoor in the floor was still there, the giant dog was long gone. He wondered briefly if McGonagall's chess set and Snape's potion bottles had been removed from the chamber beneath them as well.

Ron and Hermione took no notice of this, however, and at once started shouting at him.

Their voices mingled together and echoed off the walls of the empty room. Harry couldn't hear what either of them were saying, but if they both didn't stop soon, Filch would be onto them in seconds.

"I KNOW!" he finally roared.

He looked at their accusing stares and said quickly before they could open their mouths again, "I _know_, all right? You're both royally pissed, you have every right to be, I should have told you, it wasn't fair for me to tell Ginny first, I'm sorry you found out about the prophecy that way, and I should have told Dumbledore as soon as you guys told me about Voldemort being after you, _believe me I know, _and I deserve everything you said. But just wait till you hear what I've got to say, all right—I've got loads to tell you!"

Hermione's curiosity peaked, but Ron just stared at him, disgruntled.

"I'm not going to listen to anything he says," Ron said, still peeved, and acting as if Harry wasn't even in the room.

"Ron, I know he's done wrong, but he just apologized—"

"I don't care—"

"_Please, _Ron?" she implored, eyes beseeching. "Haven't we punished him long enough? Haven't we punished each _other_ long enough?"

He looked at her. Harry held his breath.

"Fine. But this doesn't mean I forgive you!" Ron warned Harry.

"Fair enough," Harry said quickly.

Hermione beamed and kissed Ron on the cheek.

"So, what is it?" she said to Harry, as Ron looked dazed.

Harry suddenly remembered what Moony said, and shot a Silencing Spell over the door, walls, trapdoor, and ceiling. He didn't even see any cats or mice hanging about.

Thinking those were good enough precautions, he told them everything he had gleaned from Malfoy, starting at the bathroom scene a few days ago. When he got to what happened after with the upside-down and the dangling, he purposely skipped the embarrassing part, not looking Ron in the eye.

"Listen, Harry, I—"

"Save it," said Harry, ears red, not really wanting to talk about that now.

"But no really, I'm sorry. I was being an arse, not helping you, and my actions were de—"

Harry talked over him, proceeding to tell them what Lupin said afterward in his office. Ron got the hint and shut up about it.

Hermione gasped when Harry came to the part about the Spy. But Ron was unamused.

"It makes sense," Ron said darkly. "There's been at least some sort of spy at least every year we've been here—Quirrell, Riddle, Wormtail, Moody, Umbridge—"

"You don't think it's a teacher again, do you?" said Hermione.

"I bet you all seven of my O.W.L.s it's Malfoy," said Ron.

"That's what I thought," said Harry grimly. "So that's when I decided to sneak into the Slytherin common room—"

"You did _what_?"

Harry told them about how he got into the Slytherin common room—("Wicked!" said Ron, impressed, and forgetting all about his current annoyance at Harry)—and what all the Slytherins were saying about the Malfoys. Then, of course, the truth coming out of Malfoy's very own mouth.

"It's Malfoy," said Harry when he had finished. "He told Zabini everything. He's the Spy."

"It can't be...but I thought...I thought...I don't really know, I suppose. But not that…" Hermione was glum.

"Slimy bastard," said Ron, shaking his head. "We've got to tell Dumbledore."

For once, Hermione didn't chide him for his language; it seemed she had other things on her mind.

"He's not coming back till Halloween," she said glumly. "That's two weeks away. We'll just have to wait till then."

Ron mused, "Why do Lupin and Dumbledore keep disappearing, anyway? What could they possibly be doing?"

And then Harry told them about the small snippet of memory he saw inside Dumbledore's head. When they heard about him performing Legilimency—and on the Headmaster, no less—they were both suitably impressed.

"So Dumbledore knows who the Heir of Hufflepuff is, then?" said Hermione.

"Sounds like it. I wonder who it could be…"

"_I _would like to know how Malfoy's feeding information to the outside. Owl post, d'you reckon?" said Harry.

"Mail's being checked," said Hermione. "All packages and letters are."

"He might have a friend in Hogsmeade he slips letters and things to. I didn't see him anywhere last visit..."

"I always knew Malfoy was an arse. But this is low, even for him," said Ron. "Becoming a spy for the Death Eaters…"

They slipped into silence as they contemplated that.

"Hermione...I just...I have to know. What happened? In Hogsmeade? Lupin told me bits of it, but I can't believe…" Ron trailed off, haltingly and with dread.

Hermione gave a deep sigh, and told Ron exactly what she'd told Harry.

Harry could see why she didn't want to tell Ron. He was having a really hard time handling the news. He kept pacing around the room, clenching and unclenching his fists, but was able to rein in his anger in the end.

"And you didn't get any scratches? No…" he trailed off, horrified, the unspoken word hung in the air between them.

"No…" she said softly.

"A-a-and that bit you said about Malfoy? And the _love potion?"_

"Oh, yes...so I did end up confronting him about it. I've had a mind to for a while now, but last Hogsmeade trip and everything Krum said about not knowing that bottle was spiked...well, it spurred me to action, so to speak…" said Hermione, then she told Ron everything that she had confronted Krum about. Harry chimed in with the bits he remembered. When they were both done, the three of them sat and stewed in this new information about Draco Malfoy.

"I just can't believe he would do that. _Any_ of that. I mean, I knew he was a git but I thought...I thought...maybe he was just that. Hoped, I supposed," said Ron, depressed. "We can't trust anyone, can we?"

"Definitely not a snake," hissed Harry. "So...let's recap, shall we?"

He stood up and started pacing, following Ron's former walk around the stone-edged room.

"Recap?" said Ron.

"Voldemort wants me," explained Harry. "But he can't get me because I have too much protection. From my mother, and from Hogwarts and Dumbledore, and all that rot. So….he decides to go after you two to get to me. He saw how I was willing to risk my life for Sirius last June, and knows I will do the same for you two. So he sends Malfoy. The one person he knows hates me just as much as he does. Lucius probably volunteered Draco for the job too. But he couldn't get the Dark Mark because...well, then everyone at school would know where his loyalties lie, wouldn't they? So he was sent to Hogwarts to try and get the two of you, who aren't as protected as I am."

"But Harry," Hermioned reasoned. "He couldn't have been the Death Eater in the woods because you and Ron knocked him out in the train, remember? Plus, he wasn't near tall enough. The voice was...different."

Harry paused, thinking. "You're right. That must have been someone else. I mean, it could be any Death Eater...take your pick...Malfoy Senior, the Lestranges, Nott Senior, it could have been any of the ones that escaped from Azkaban, it could be a new recruit even…"

"So if Draco Malfoy is the Spy, you reckon he's behind...everything that's happened so far at Hogwarts? Not the Death Eater attack...and not the Slytherins knocking me out on the train or setting that damnable snake on me today...but stealing the Love Potion from Hermione, taking her wand as well, and that day they had her after Hagrid's class, plus we already know he hung you in the air—" said Ron, postulating, but Harry broke in.

"Of course he was, he was actually there for most of it too. I bet that Death Eater that attacked us was his father too...trying to get back into Voldemort's good graces…"

There was a lull in their conversation as they ruminated this.

"What if it's Snape?" Ron asked.

Harry sucked in his breath with his teeth. That idea was far worse than any other they had come up with so far. As much of a git as he was...for him to actively be trying to kill them…

"It can't be," Hermione said. "I've been working with him. On the Wolflord Potion. Him and Professor Jones both."

Harry noticed she didn't say _why _that Death Eater couldn't have been Snape, but he did not go into it with her.

"You forgot about what Malfoy told me, Harry," said Hermione softly. "He said that capturing me and Ron started out being his job...but then it was given to someone else."

"Well...again, take your pick. Out of all those Slytherins in their common room that wished him harm...Nott, Rowle, Crabbe, Goyle, Harper, Wilkes, Urquhart, Zabini...even those Slytherin girls could be it. Victoria Vaisey, Tracy Davis, Pansy Parkinson, Meghan Freeman—"

"_Not _Meghan Freeman," Hermioned interjected. "Just...not her. She really is a sweetheart once you get to know her. It's not her fault she's a Slytherin, anyway, and that tough front she puts out is just the cover that helps her survive in those dungeons. Besides I know she's a fifth-year, but really she can't be more than 14…"

"All right," Harry agreed. "Not Meghan Freeman. But everyone else in the Slytherin House is a suspect. I don't want either of you alone with any of them. Especially you, Ron...I'm glad Moony came along to save you when he did. How did he get rid of the snake?"

Ron reddened. "Oh, it was just some counter-charm. I knew it, but I was far too busy not pi—" he remembered himself when he looked over at Hermione, "—er...I mean...you know. Trying not to wet myself at the time to get my head on straight and cast it. The sods…"

"You know on the real battlefield, you're going to be scared shitless then too _and _not have anyone saving your arse," Harry said sternly. "You got lucky this time. If it is Nott who was tasked with taking you guys to Voldemort, you would have been prime pickings for him today."

"I know," Ron said in chagrin, nodding. "I was lucky. I need to work on being quick on the draw, like you both are. Lupin says I have a lot of stamina, but I just don't like to do things fast, if you've noticed. On the chess set, I take my time. On the Quidditch pitch, I take my time. In schoolwork, I take my time. During that Hogsmeade attack, I took my time. But there's going to come a day when I don't _have _time."

They sat, contemplating this some more.

"You know, it's funny," Ron spoke again, staring at the trapdoor in the floor. "Five years ago we went down there to stop V-Vol...Volde...oh, you know who...from becoming immortal. And now...we're further away from achieving that than ever."

Hermione nodded. "We were so young then. We thought our parents could save us from anything...that our teachers knew what they were doing...that books held all the answers..."

"That somebody else would save the world..." Harry said softly.

"Harry..." said Ron, suddenly serious. "There's something that's been bothering me. We heard that you know what the prophecy's about...but I haven't heard what it says."

Harry sighed...he'd been dreading this. They were both looking at him expectantly.

So he took a deep breath and told them everything that Dumbledore had told him in June. When he finished, neither of them said a word for a very long time.

"So..." Ron spoke up. "You're supposed to either kill him...or be killed?"

Harry nodded slowly.

Hermione was biting her lip, trying hard not to cry. "Oh, Harry," she said miserably. "You _know _we'll be with you to the end, right? Wherever you go, we'll follow."

"To the end, mate," said Ron bravely.

"_No,"_ said Harry. "You know I can't—"

"It doesn't matter," Ron interrupted stubbornly. "It's not your choice. I'm sorry it took weeks of my pigheadedness to notice that—"

"That's why I couldn't tell you," said Harry. "I didn't know how to—I mean, how do you tell your best friends that in order to live….you have to become a murderer?"

"It's not murder," said Ron forcibly. "If it was, the bastard would have to be alive. He hasn't even got a real body—he's living on your blood, his dead dad's bones, and my old rat's flesh. Right now, Voldemort's just some walking, talking bag of cast-offs."

The three of them chuckled, relieved to find something to joke about amidst the darkness they were facing.

"Ron," said Harry, suddenly looking at him, "I think that's the first time you've said his name."

Ron's ears grew pink. "Figured it was about time I stopped being afraid of him. Considering how close we were back at the Department of Mysteries. Besides….he can't even hear me."

"We really should be getting back, you two," said Hermione, after casting a Tempus. "It's past curfew, our patrol ended an hour ago, and we don't want to get caught."

Harry grinned and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. "Think we still fit?"

They did—but only just. All the way up to Gryffindor tower there were low mutterings, curses, and very many pokes, prods, and whispered apologies.

When they made it through to the empty common room, safe and sound, Harry pulled it off them and found his two best friends were very pink.

"You two ready for our Hogsmeade trip tomorrow?" he said.

"To be fair," Ron said, "It'll be nice being with you two instead of..._Lav-Lav_...I am sorry to say but she is a bit...rather...that is to say, she's a tiny bit...you know…"

"Shrill?" said Harry and Hermione frankly.

Ron reddened, not wanting to speak ill of the dreaded.

"It'll be so much nicer going with you two and not Viktor," Hermione said with a smile, eager to get the conversation off of Lavender. Then she realized how that sounded, and backtracked. "Not that he's not fun and all…"

"He _really _isn't, is he?" Harry teased. For the life of him he couldn't imagine Krum grinning like a schoolboy in a sweetshop.

Ron snickered with him, but Hermione didn't seem to mind much. "He has teacher stuff to do," she said. "So I'll be by myself. Well...with my Auror guard, at least…so Ginny wanted to be pals."

"Oh, how come they didn't patrol with you two?" Harry asked.

"They don't have to go with us _every_where. While we are patrolling we are fine as long as we take the Marauders' Map, plus the Aurors are also patrolling the castle so that really does help give us that added protection," said Hermione. "Anyway, we have the Quidditch match Saturday after next, as you both well know. And after that there's another Hogsmeade trip on Thursday, Halloween day. That's when we are having the Halloween Ball."

"Wait, that's in less than two weeks?" said Harry, discouraged. "Blimey, I need a date."

"You want Lavender?" said Ron, looking hopeful. Harry made a face. Hermione laughed, and Ron looked glum. "Oh well. It's too late to break it off with her so close to it anyhow…"

"Ron, that's very nice of you," said Hermione, looking rather pleased. "It really would hurt her rather dreadfully if you broke up with her right before it. If it were me, I'd...erm...want one good night with you before you broke it off so gently a few days later. Just..._be _gentle with her. She really is invested in your relationship."

Ron just stared at her, lost in thought, ears pink.

Harry looked around, suddenly feeling very intrusive. "So...er...do they know where it will be? The Ball? Will it be in the Great Hall again?"

"Oh!" she said. "No, actually, it's an outside ball. It'll be in that beautiful courtyard this year. The one with the pergolas covering over all of it, and that big fountain and statue in the middle…"

"Did you hear, Harry?" said Ron, interrupting Hermione's girly descriptions. "We get to go to Hogsmeade on Halloween too! Two Hogsmeade trips in a row! Dumbledore's not too bad for letting us have so many outings. We've been given permission to go to the twins' opening on Halloween!"

"Wicked!"

"Yeah, we'll be able to get things half-off—"

"You ready for the Quidditch match next Saturday, Ron?"

"You kidding? I'm about to piss myself…"

They noticed Hermione staring at them with a smile on her face, and stopped talking. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "I just missed this."

Harry and Ron looked at each other, brows raised. _Girls._

It was really quite wonderful having Hermione and Ron speaking to him again, thought Harry with a grin after they had gone up to bed.

It was just as they were getting ready for bed, that Ron asked Harry his last question.

"Harry?"

Harry grunted in reply as he pulled his shoes off.

"Is there...anything...going on...between...you...and…" Ron paused, his words being wrenched out of him so slowly and methodically that a Muggle dentist would have been impressed.

Harry waited for him to finish. Ron didn't.

"Hermione?" Harry finished for him.

A grunt in the darkness from Ron was all that replied.

Pausing what he was doing, Harry tried to find the words that best explained the situation.

"Look...Ron...I don't know what you heard...or what you saw...but I love Hermione like a _sister_, all right? Like how you love Ginny. I care for her deeply, I really do...but not….in the way you're thinking. Not like...you and Lavender," he said, hoping he got the point across.

There was a creak in the bed as Ron laid down.

"Good," he whispered, and Harry could hear the palpable relief in that sigh.

Harry let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Should he say something about his own...feelings...for _Ron's _sister?

But a second later, snores soon drifted over from Ron's bed, and Harry grinned as he realized it had been way too long since he'd last heard Ron snore.

It seemed Ron was finally sleeping.

Harry pulled back his covers and climbed in, feeling more than ready for sleep to claim him.

The first half of October had seemed rather lonely and dreary, but now that the three of them were on good terms, it brightened considerably.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you SO much for all the love! It really brightens my day and makes me not want to wait till night to post. **

**Sure hope this quells the fears of whoever was wondering when the Golden Trio would stop fighting with each other. Also hope this was enough Romione for those die-hard fans (don't worry, you guys are my peeps). No, I did not forget about that green-eyed owl, who will be coming back for more. And yes, please, drop everything to come and read these chapters and leave me a lovely review! (Except babies...don't you DARE drop those babies...)**

**Cheers!**

**Next chapter, "Blood Traitor's Alley"...**


	27. Blood Traitor's Alley

**BLOOD TRAITOR'S ALLEY**

"You want my Chocolate Frog card? It's Merlin—"

"No, look at these! They help you see in the dark—"

"—oh, can I have your Fever Fudge—thanks—"

"—should make sure everyone in the D.A. have them—"

Ron walked with Harry down Hogsmeade's High Street, clutching his goods. Because it was mid-October, it was getting rather chilly; their jackets and scarves were worn tightly wound about them. Dark clouds loomed in the east, threatening to spill at any given moment.

True to Dumbledore's word, Ron and Harry were being shadowed by two Auror guards. Ron wasn't sure what their names were, but they reminded him a bit too much of Crabbe and Goyle for his liking—both in size and in scowl.

But Ron couldn't complain. He and Hermione were almost not allowed to come. Having Crabbe and Goyle lookalikes stalking him everywhere was a very small price to pay for having the freedom to load up on as many sweets and junkfood as he could carry.

"Too bad Hermione chose not to come with us. I saw some deluxe sugar quills she might like," Harry said. "Where did she go, anyway?"

Ron shrugged, trying to look nonchalant but also knowing full well where Hermione was.

"I think she and Ginny were going to the bookstore, last I saw. Ginny normally doesn't frequent anywhere that doesn't have food, clothes, or broomsticks, but she said something about needing something for a paper that's due tomorrow," he explained, then reddened. "Speaking of girls, Lavender wanted me to go out with her today too—I barely dodged her in time—"

Lavender was becoming quite unbearable, Ron was quickly finding out. She might always have been, but he'd been so wrapped up in the snogging that it took him several weeks to figure this out.

When he said nothing else, Harry prompted him. "Continue…"

"Well...I mean it's just...Lavender just always wants us to do stuff together. I mean...she's nice and all, but...I mean, she's not...she's not..._Hermione_…you know?" Ron trailed off, staring dreamily at the sky. Then he remembered himself, turning pink. "Or you. You know, how we can just hang out. Talk. I mean, Lavender sure does love to talk, but...really, I don't want to spend _that_ much time with her. She's a bit...annoying."

"You've just noticed this?" said Harry dryly.

Ron's ears grew red and he focused intently on an item at the very bottom of his bag, not watching where he was going.

He didn't see the something that bowled into his legs.

* * *

Hermione picked a book off the shelf and admired its gold-edged pages as she opened it and began to rifle through it. They were at Tomes and Scrolls, one of Hermione's most favorite places in the world. It was so quaint and quiet and…

...well…

...at least it _would_ be quiet if she didn't have a certain redhead breathing loudly in her ear…

Ginny sighed, irritated.

"I'm bored," she moaned.

Hermione raised a brow at Ginny's childishness then, just as quickly, reproved herself for being rude. Ginny was raised by a mother who spoiled her, a father who fiddled with Muggle toys, and six older brothers who were all obsessed with Quidditch.

It wasn't Ginny's fault that she prefered playing over reading.

"You didn't have to come along, you know," Hermione reminded the redhead.

"I thought spending the day with you would be more fun. You know...trying on clothes at Gladrags, talking about boys over a butterbeer, shopping for unhealthy junkfood at the Magic Neep that's liable to make us fat. _Girl _shopping," said Ginny, irritable. "We haven't even gone to Splintwitches yet!"

"You were the one who said you needed a book," Hermione chided. Her arms swept all around her at All The Books."_You're welcome," _she said sarcastically. "Go wild."

Ginny grumbled and stared at a bookshelf. Hermione went back to her book.

However. Five minutes later, and Ginny was still trying to find the right title to no avail.

Hermione watched her hopelessly for another minute before giving in.

"All right, fine, I'll find the book for you. Why don't you give me your list and you can go play in the corner with the toy brooms and magical floating blocks while I find it?" she said. "We'll be out in two minutes and then we can go get a pint."

Ginny grinned. "Thank you, dearie!"

She practically threw the crumpled paper in Hermione's face before going to the child's corner and sitting next to the other three year olds to play.

Hermione sighed and bent down to pick up the fallen scrap. When she came back up, however, she found herself face to face with—

"Cormac!" she said in alarm, dropping the paper scrap in surprise.

His blond hair curled around his face quite handsomely, but Hermione was _not _one for looks. He could grin and wink at her all he like, but she was still not amused.

"Hermione!" he greeted in turn, bending down to pick it up and hand it to her again. "I must say, I am surprised to see you here."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You are surprised to find me, Hermione Granger, in a bookshop? Do you know me at all?" she asked.

"Oh, but I mean to say, I thought you were banned from coming to Hogsmeade?" he said quizzically.

"Is everything I do public knowledge?" she muttered to herself. To him, she announced, "No, I have not been banned yet, thank you for the concern. They've decided on two bodyguards for me this time."

She gestured to the two Order members standing by the door. It was Charlie Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks today who were keeping a close eye on her and Ginny, as well as the street and environs.

But Hermione had more important matters to attend to.

She walked around Cormac and scoured the rest of the aisle, determined to find Ginny's book quickly so she could be removed from the frustratingly arrogant pretty-boy.

Her finger glossed over the titles, looking through the P's of the Potions section until she found the one she wanted. The only reason Ginny couldn't find it was because although the book's title was _Quick Quidditch Cures_, it was a part of a series and thus next to its prequel, _Potion Cures for the Curious_.

Although if she worked at Tomes and Scrolls_, _she would have more of a mind to categorize books the Muggle way and shelve them by genre first and author's surname second.

She grasped the navy and silver book and opened her mouth to call out for Ginny.

There. That was quick enou—

She turned around and bumped into Cormac again. Her book fell to the floor.

"_Cormac!" _she said again, far more irate this time.

"_Hermione!"_ he said as if she bumped into him on purpose and he was merely catching her in the act. His voice was lower, and his eyes more earnest in this new attempt to woo her, as he handed her the book. "Must we keep bumping into each other like this?"

Fed up with him, she snapped, "No! We really mustn't!"

She shoved past him but could hear his footsteps behind her as she marched up to the counter and paid for the book—forgetting in her wrath that it wasn't even her book.

When she was done with that, she turned around—

And automatically took a step back from Cormac, who had come right up behind her again.

"Come to think of it...I don't think I ever told you, Cormac," she said, thinking fast, "That I had the biggest crush on you in September, what with you being Head Boy and all. But you see, I just knew there was no way I'd ever be able to measure up—"

His chest visibly puffed up. "Well, it's no wonder! I'm actually on the Quidditch team too, did you hear?"

"—Oh! Really? Wow, Cormac, you are...really something! Did you hear that, Romilda? Isn't Cormac just the best? Head Boy _and _almost-Quidditch-Captain!" Hermione gushed, pulling Romilda Vane to her in an effort to distract Cormac. "How lucky are we to be standing here beside him!"

Romilda, who'd been standing in line right behind them, look disgusted to be next to Hermione, but her interest automatically turned to Cormac and her cheeks flushed when she saw the Head Boy had noticed her.

"Well, I guess it's just too bad that I'm dating Viktor Krum then...you know...international Quidditch star and all…" Hermione said, looking downcast. "But, oh well! Other fish in the sea, as you well know. And then there's Romilda here...I hear you are single, Ro? And Cormac, look how lovely she is today! That beautiful violet pashmina really makes her eyes pop, wouldn't you say? Here, why don't you two mingle…"

And then she got out of that shop just as quickly as her legs could carry her. She didn't dare look back to see that, why yes, Romilda _was _interested in the Head Boy. And Cormac was far too distracted by Romilda's pretty face to be too hung up on Hermione leaving.

_My work here is done._

Ginny caught up with her then, cracking up. Charlie and Tonks followed them out of the bookshop, both chuckling.

"That, my dear, was the best matchmaking I have ever seen!" said Ginny, chortling. "The looks on their faces! You know she's got a die-hard Harry crush, don't you? Oh, broomsticks, you're a hoot, Hermione! And don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise…"

* * *

Ron got the wind knocked out of him by either a dwarf or a very tiny person.

"_Ooof!" _said a small boy as he was knocked to the ground.

Fake-Crabbe and Faux-Goyle immediately started running to them, but when they saw it was just a little boy, they slowed their steps, bemused.

"You all right? Need a hand?" said Ron, helping the five-year-old up.

"RUSTY PREWETT!" said a harassed-looking woman hurrying towards them. She hoisted up an even smaller girl onto her hip as she ran. "You get back here at once, young man! And apologise to the gentleman!"

The boy muttered an apology to Ron's shoes. All Ron could see was an auburn head and pink ears.

"I am so sorry, he does that often—he's just excited, really. Come along, Rusty," said the woman.

She had wide eyes and a rather thin nose, Ron noticed. She took the boy's hand and tried to pull him away.

"But, _Mum_! It's Harry _Potter!"_

"Nevermind that, Rusty, we must get home. It's past nap time. Poor Hazel's going to fall asleep in my arms."

"Mummy, I's 'wake!" said the sleepy little red-headed girl around her thumb. She couldn't have been more than two or three.

"Er...sorry," said Ron. "But did you say Prewett? My mum's a Prewett. Molly Prewett. Well, except now, she's Molly Weasley."

"So you're a Weasley, then? Might have known—you look the part. Sorry, I'm Hyacinth Prewett. Pleasure to meet you. I believe you're related to my husband. He's got a Molly as a sister. Hasn't spoken to her in years. Not since their twin brothers died. I suppose he ought to have told her he got married and had children, but that's Russell for you. Rusty's father, that is. Never so much a bother about anything," said Hyacinth Prewett, all rather fast. "Oh, this is Hazel."

The small girl in her arms looked more like the boy than her mum—dark red curls and curious hazel eyes; but while the boy had glasses, she sported a thumb in her mouth.

"I _see_ it! I see his scar, Mum!" said Rusty Prewett excitedly, pushing his glasses up on his nose in a way that rather reminded Ron of Percy.

"Yes, yes, but we really do need to hurry. There's going to be another storm—there've been rather a lot of them lately—excuse us, please, we must be going. Pleasure to meet you both," she said, and tugged the boy along. The little girl, Hazel Prewett, waved at them shyly with her spare fingers over her mum's shoulder as they ducked into the Magic Neep grocery story.

"Prewett...huh..." mused Ron. "I've told you about Mum's brothers, haven't I? Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian? They died in the last war. Fred and George were named after them. Mum told us about her youngest brother, Russell, and how he became a shopkeeper after the war. Wondered what had happened to him. Seems to have come to Hogsmeade, though...huh, wonder if Mum knows..."

Harry kicked at a cobblestone and nodded absently. "Have you noticed, though? There _have_ been a lot of storms lately."

"So?"

"So, think about it," said Harry impatiently.

There were times Ron wished he wasn't so slow on the uptake.

Now was one of them.

"Hundreds of dementors leave Azkaban," Harry explained. "Fogs and clouds and the like tend to gravitate towards them. There's been one storm after another since we arrived here. Hogwarts is the one thing Voldemort wants more than me. He basically owns the dementors. Now what do you think that all adds up to?"

Ron swore.

"Exactly."

* * *

The Three Broomsticks ended up being far too full for the girls' liking. It was lunchtime that they happened to go there, and they both regretted it immeasurably. But the thousands of lights strung up, the open airy space, and dozens upon dozens of chairs and booths spread out before them as far as they could see in the magically-enhanced, student-friendly pub were all too enticing. And almost every square inch of that space was filled up by Hogwarts teenagers, all fancying a pint.

"Maybe…maybe we should try Madam Puddifoot's?" Hermione yelled over the cacophony. "Or the Hog's Head?"

"No," Ginny said decidedly, already knowing what she wanted. "I know a spot. Follow me."

After they got their butterbeers and croissants, Ginny led Hermione up the rickety staircase that bordered the high ceilings and looked down over the main dining areas. The railing was a bit too precarious for Hermione's liking as they walked along the balcony walkway to get to a small, cozy balcony nestled against bay windows where they sat on plump velvet cushions and overlooked the Scottish mountains on one side and the main bar far below them.

"Wow, I've never been in this part of the pub before," said Hermione, appraising it. It was far more quiescent up here, with the noises from below turning into just background noise. Charlie and Tonks settled at a table quite a distance away, keeping a weather eye on the people around them.

Ginny smiled, and chattered on about how she and her fellow fifth-year girlfriends would often come up here and play pranks on people, but Hermione was no longer listening.

She had just spotted a very familiar, very blond, head of slick hair down in the thick of the melee.

Thoughts of when she had confronted her Slytherin tormentor about the love potion came to her, but Hermione was torn with indecision. She remembered everything Harry had said about him. Malfoy told her he didn't know who was in charge of trying to abduct her and bring her to Voldemort. But surely that was a lie...

She was saved from these thoughts, however, when Alexandra Rosier, a few other fifth-year Gryffindor girls named Emerald Greene and Hesper Puckle, and, oddly enough, Fay and Sally-Anne from her own year came over and sat with them, gossiping.

Hermione wasn't used to being with a bunch of giggling girls, as tight-knitted as she was with her two boys plus tutoring others, but it was actually a lot of fun chatting and regaling tales with this bunch.

Before she knew it, a half-hour had passed and they were laughing so hard that she felt the need to use the restroom.

"Shall I go get another round, then?" she said, standing. "On me."

Cries of "Oh, yes, please!" "You're such a doll…" followed her and she set off for downstairs, where the crowd had died down quite a bit.

"Wait up! I need to use the loo!" Ginny called, running after her. "Then I'll help you take the drinks back. They are a fun bunch, aren't they!"

They were followed to the loo by Tonks, which made Hermione feel rather silly. Honestly, she was fine...she didn't need to be escorted _every_where like a small child…

They made it to the ladies' room with no hassle, but as soon as she was in the stall, Ginny's incessant chatter made it almost impossible for Hermione to finish. Hermione got out and washed her hands, taking her time and waiting for Ginny.

After a minute though, Hermione thought better of it. "Gin, I'm going to go and order the drinks. You coming?"

"Yes, just a minute," Ginny called back.

Satisfied, Hermione went over to the bar, passing Katie Bell on her way out. She noticed Tonks following her out the corner of her eye, and silently wished the Auror could just stick with Ginny instead. But Ginny hadn't been attacked several times like Hermione had, which meant Hermione was more high-risk.

She sighed as she waited for her drinks, hating the whole situation.

It was probably just as well that she not talk to Malfoy again, she thought, paying for the bottles. Ron and Harry would never approve, for one thing. Ron almost had a hernia when he found out that she had even talked to Malfoy in the first place. She didn't know what Harry thought.

Besides, it wasn't like Malfoy would ever admit to it, if he was lying the first time. She would have to be the one drugging him next time...

She sat at the bar and took a sip of hers, looking around for Malfoy, but she didn't see him there anymore.

For endless minutes, she waited around for Ginny, but she never showed.

Perhaps she went upstairs without Hermione?

"You haven't seen Ginny, have you?" Hermione muttered to Tonks. The Metamorphmagus shook her head, and they went up the stairs to see if Ginny went there.

Puzzled, Hermione looked around at the other girls, but Ginny wasn't there either. Hermione passed the bottles out, but nobody else seemed too concerned about Ginny taking too long in the loo.

"She's used to sharing a toilet room with her brothers at home," Alexandra said with a shrug, her dark curls falling over her shoulders. "Makes sense she covets the amount of time she gets in them."

Sally-Anne snickered, but Hermione wasn't too sure. She cast a glance at Charlie and Tonks, but they were standing near the staircase, scouring the room for Charlie's sister.

"Hoy! Gin! We thought you fell in!" shouted the girl next to Hermione. She was the pink-cheeked pixie-cut blonde named Emerald Greene.

Hesper turned in her spot, grinning at her redheaded friend. "You abandoned Hermione, you cheeky blighter. She'll never forgive you now."

But Ginny, walking toward them holding something tight in her hands, didn't call back as she normally would have.

"I thought you already came up here," Hermione said as Ginny came to stand by her. "I didn't need any help with the bottles though, we're all good."

Ginny didn't sit down. Her eyes looked oddly vacant. "I have a present for you."

Charlie and Tonks were watching this whole interchange, puzzled, hands on their wands...

"Oh, you didn't have to, Ginny, that's very sweet of you!" said Hermione, smiling. "Is that why you were gone so long? Buying something for me?"

"Open it," Ginny said.

The redhead held it out to her. It was a brown paper package tied up with string.

Hermione's fingers clenched around the gift—

But, changing her mind, Ginny yanked back _hard _just as Hermione grabbed it—

"_No—"_

The package tore open—

"DON'T—!"

But it was too late.

Shrill screams filled the air.

* * *

It was just as Harry and Ron were rounding a corner onto Picklewitch Lane that Harry noticed something, and abruptly stopped. Ron tripped over his feet in a keen effort to catch himself from colliding into Harry, and grunted.

"Merlin, Harry, what is it now?"

Harry stared across the cobblestone street at the clock tower. It rose crookedly into the storm-struck sky, one of the tallest buildings in Hogsmeade. But it wasn't sightseeing that stopped him. It was a memory.

A memory of…

Him looking at the clock-tower when it said four thirty-seven.

Of course it wasn't that time now. It was currently only midday. But that memory...

As if in a daze, Harry stepped out into the street and crossed it. He stopped when he was right outside Splintwitches, a shop he went with Ginny to, last Hogsmeade trip.

Last Hogsmeade trip...when Ron was attacked.

Harry did not take his eyes off the clock tower. Now that he was in a different location, he could see the angle of the clock tower completely matched up with the memory he had of when it said four thirty-seven.

Harry furrowed his brow, wondering why this would stand out to him. It wasn't like he'd never seen the old building before. He'd seen it hundreds of times, most likely. But the memory stood out to him because he had been looking at the clock tower with four thirty-seven on its face...and then he had blinked...and the numbers read four forty-two...

Ron stared at him, concerned. "It's not...your _scar_...is it?"

Harry shook his head. "No...not my scar...in fact, that hasn't hurt in months…no...but, Ron...what happened at four thirty-seven last Hogsmeade trip?"

Running a hand through his hair, Ron was perturbed by the question. "That...I mean, I don't know the exact time...but I think that was around when the Death Eater attacked. I remember the Aurors talking about the time after they did a really cool spell to find out what happened. Why?"

"Because...the last time we were here...I saw that clock read four thirty-seven...and then it jumped straight to four forty-two," said Harry. "Five minutes...in the space of one second."

Something wasn't right. Something was missing. Missing...missing...like a…

"_Ron,"_ Harry whispered. "You told me that you sent me a Patronus! Last Hogsmeade weekend, when you were attacked. You sent me your Patronus...but I never got it…"

_Five minutes..._

"I was royally pissed at you for that," Ron admitted, voice low. "I thought you were lying, honestly. Patronuses don't just..._disobey_...when you send them as messengers. It's not like my crup would have delivered it to someone else, either. They can even tell when someone uses a Polyjuice. I thought for sure you were lying…"

_Five minutes..._

"I wasn't lying, Ron," Harry vowed. "I never got it. Ginny and I were at Splintwitches, and the line was really long so I stepped outside to wait for Ginny while she bought her things. I remember looking at the clock, and it said four thirty-seven and then I swear I only blinked and then it said four forty-two. I never got your Patronus."

_Five minutes...and one very important message._

And that's when Harry realized what happened.

"Ron...I think someone stole my memory."

* * *

It all happened so fast.

_Give the package to Hermione…_

Ginny had been fighting with the Imperius the whole way upstairs, but it had been such a nice, pleasant feeling.

_Give it to her…_

Above all, she knew that Something Very Bad was going to happen if she obeyed.

_Give it to her NOW!_

It was a mark of how strong-willed and defiant she was that Ginny was able to overthrow the Imperius just in time. She snapped out of it as soon as Hermione touched the package.

_OBEY ME!_

"_No—" _she cried, coming out of that hazy cloud.

Charlie and Tonks both ran forward just as the tearing sound happened, and Ginny didn't even have time to gasp—

"DON'T—" cried Tonks, reaching her hand out before Hermione could touch it—

Something shiny and dazzling shot up into the air. A necklace, Ginny saw. At once, she wondered what was so special about a necklace...and why someone would even want Hermione to have it. But as the horrified Tonks caught it a mere second before it fell in Hermione's hands, they all saw why.

With horror, the girls all screamed as they saw a curse enact on the Auror's body, her unheard scream, rising up in the air, the look of pure terror, the grotesque manner of what that curse was making her do.

Ginny was terrified.

To say she was in shock was an understatement.

She couldn't even remember what happened after that. How Charlie saved Tonks. How he cast a spell over the cursed necklace so nobody could touch it. How he made sure Hermione and Ginny and the other girls were all right. How he summoned the St. Mungo paramedics, who appeared with their kits and stretcher. How they took Tonks away…

Her friends all gave their statements to Kingsley. Charlie talked with the Aurors as they came, more and more of them, and then they allowed him to go be with Tonks, and he disapparated after squeezing Ginny and Hermione both tightly, telling them both how glad he was that they were okay.

Then Kingsley was looking her in the eyes and talking to her, but she couldn't see him. Couldn't respond to him. Couldn't respond to Hermione, when she tried talking to her. Couldn't respond to Harry when he came. But Ron….

_Ron…_

As soon as she saw her brother, Ginny came out of her shock, and she clung to him, sobbing, and crying "I'm sorry...I'm sorry…_it's all my fault_..." over and over again.

And through it all, she couldn't help thinking the most horrifying thoughts.

_Tonks is dead. _

_I killed her._

He hugged her and soothed her as only an awkward brother could. And it was then that she finally was ready to talk to Kingsley about what had happened.

They sat in a booth in the main dining area of the Three Broomsticks. It had been cleared out and emptied of all patrons, and Rosmerta was shakily cleaning mugs behind the bar. The clinking of glass on glass could be heard numerous times as she tried to finish her work while listening in on the Aurors' conversations.

Ginny couldn't stop watching her.

To Ginny's left sat Ron, who gripped her arm encouragingly and a wee bit tightly. Harry and Hermione sat at the next table over, offering support, but her friends had already left for the castle, having given their statements already.

"I-I-I was...in the loo...washing my hands...when the door opened," Ginny began, voice small and stuttering. "I didn't look up to see who came in. I thought they'd walk right by me and go to the stall. B-but then I heard a...v-voice...say..._I-Imperio..._and then nothing else mattered. I was...in _heaven_…and th-that's when she gave me the package and-and-and told me what to d-do..."

Kingsley leaned forward in his seat.

"_Who,_ Ginevra?"

Ginny sniffled. "R-Rosmerta."

Glass shattered behind them.

There were questions...lots of questions...and she had to repeat herself. Lots of times.

Just as Ginny suspected, Rosmerta was under the Imperius as well. She didn't look right when she talked to Ginny. But when Kingsley asked the bar matron if she remembered who put her under the Imperius, Rosmerta couldn't. It had been in her orders given to her, that she not remember who was cursing her.

But she kept calling him a 'he'. And they all knew it was a Death Eater.

After what felt like hours, Kingsley stood up, sympathy covering his kind features, and he told them they were all free to leave.

Ginny never felt more relieved in her life.

Yet...she couldn't help but feel that this nightmare was only beginning.

* * *

Harry was in shock.

The fact that Ginny was...that Ginny…

That someone had used an _Unforgivable_ on Ginny was…

Unforgivable.

And Tonks saving Hermione and Ginny both was…was….

Unbelievable.

Worry for Tonks...for the news of whether she was still alive or….or….

He couldn't finish that thought.

_Please let Tonks be okay, _he prayed instead. _Please let her be okay...please let her live…._

The rest of the day dampened considerably for them all. They were told to go straight to the castle. Do not pass 'Go'. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Ron's two Auror guards followed them to make sure they obeyed.

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were all escorted down the street, passing by the uaware shoppers who had no idea that two Unforgivables had just been cast inside such a formerly happy place. Neville and Luna soon joined them from where they were waiting at the entrance to the Three Broomsticks for the questioning to be done.

Ron was holding tighter to Ginny than usual, as she kept clinging to him in a very un-Ginny-like way and wouldn't let go. Hermione kept shivering, having just escaped death (or worse), and Harry wished he could do something for her.

For either of them.

Shivering, Harry couldn't get that scene out of his head.

He and Ron had gone with Neville and Luna to the Three Broomsticks for lunch, but as soon as they had got there, everything was chaos. St. Mungo's was already there, he saw in dismay that an unconscious Tonks was being floated away, Hermione was in tears, and Ginny was in shock.

They just...couldn't believe it. That there had been _another _attack…

Ron and Hermione weren't safe anywhere.

"Harry...you're scaring the girls, mate," said Ron in an undertone.

Harry looked up from where he'd been staring at his sneakers as they walked. The leaning cottages with their A-frames, the towering buildings held up clearly by magic, the bustling people around them… he hadn't seen any of it.

All he could think about was what had just happened to Tonks, Hermione, and Ginny.

"The girls are already scared, Ron," Harry said in an undertone.

"Fine then. You're scaring _me_. Want to liven up a bit?"

Their argument was broken though when Trevor the Toad wrenched out of Neville's grip.

"Quick! Catch him!" Neville cried, but the toad hopped down an alley-way and out of sight.

The rain started falling down in earnest as six teenagers ran off after Trevor. They took off down several streets, splitting up to look for him, and quite accidentally losing their bodyguards in the crowds and maze of a town as a result. Shielded under umbrella charms, they kept calling Trevor's name (which was useless, but...well...with magic you never knew...), they tried summoning spells, they tried locating spells, but all were to no avail.

"What the...how the hell is that toad so fast?" Ron grumbled.

"Nott..._enhanced_ Trevor a few weeks ago," Ginny spoke up, still quiet amidst her red-rimmed eyes, but coming back a little more to her regular self. "As a joke. Meant to injure and ridicule. Not very funny right now, if you ask me…"

Then Neville thought he saw Trevor's hind legs disappear round a corner, and they all followed him to peer down another dark and twisting street in the heart of Hogsmeade.

"'_Blood Traitor's Alley'?"_ said Ron, reading the street sign through the rainy haze. "That sounds promising..."

"We need to wait for Ron's bodyguards to catch up!" panted Hermione, bent over her knees trying to catch her breath. She definitely wasn't the most fit of the bunch. "We lost them in the crowd somewhere along Hogsworth Way. We mustn't keep going off by ourselves…Neville, slow _down!"_

But Neville gave a shout as he spotted Trevor.

Yet again, they reluctantly followed Neville as he raced after his toad. But when Harry saw who they were going towards, he slowed.

At first, Draco Malfoy appeared to be alone. But then they saw he was in a very heated conversation with a small skinny girl—it was Meghan Freeman.

"What is he doing?" trailed Harry.

"I don't know, but it's probably none of our business—please, let's just go—" said Hermione, pulling Harry after Neville.

Just then, Meghan Freeman gave a shriek—Malfoy whipped out his wand—

At once, Harry and Ron ran forward, Neville and the girls behind them, wands out.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

"Leave her alone, Malfoy!"

"Don't you even _think _of trying anything!"

"For the love of..." said Malfoy, swearing as he turned around and saw them. "I'm not even doing anything, you morons and Mudbloods!"

"Hey!" shrieked Freeman as Neville grabbed a hold of her to pull her away from Malfoy. They both slid in the puddles. "Get off me! I said let GO!" She wrenched her arm out of Neville's grasp and caught him in an Indian-burn that made him cringe.

"Ow! I wasn't trying to—we weren't—"

"Say you're sorry!" she growled at Neville. "_Say it!"_

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, all right?" he said, then stumbled back when she abruptly let go.

"That's better," she said haughtily.

Neville rubbed his arm as Ron helped him steady.

"Oh, stop cringing like a baby, Longbottom," sneered Malfoy. "And _give_ me my wand back, Potter!"

Harry was not happy to give his school enemy a wand at all anytime soon. But when he didn't move to give it back, Hermione sighed irritably, took it from him, and handed it back to Malfoy. He stared at her as the rain fell down around them for several seconds before he took it from her.

Then he was back to his charming old self.

"Great, now there's half-blood _and _Mudblood slime on it," Draco Malfoy said, wiping it off.

Ginny held Ron back before he could make a move.

"You weren't saying as much the other day when I saved your stupid arse," Hermione sneered at him.

Ron whistled at her language.

Malfoy's anger shorted out and his ears grew pink.

"At least he has the decency to look down," Ron said viciously. "Like a bit of a bow. Malfoy isn't worth the ground Hermione stands on."

Malfoy's biting retort was drowned out by the resounding crack of thunder. The rain pounded harder around them.

"Wait, you're Freeman, aren't you? Fifth-year?" Harry said suddenly to the dark girl. "You were with us in the Shrieking Shack the other day."

The girl nodded, her braids bobbing up and down, the little dark beads in her hair clinking.

"We thought Malfoy was going to hurt you," said Harry to Freeman.

"Of course he wasn't!" she scoffed.

"Then why did you scream?"

"Because a bloody toad hopped on her foot!" Malfoy said scathingly. "I don't just go around cursing people, Potter! Especially not when they're in my own house!"

"You could have fooled me," Ron sneered.

"_You're _not 'people'," said Malfoy, snapping.

"And what business is it of yours anyway?" said Freeman, still angry. "What we do together has nothing to do with you."

"Sorry, but...well, he's a Slytherin," explained Neville.

"I'M a Slytherin!" she retorted. "Does that mean you're going to jinx me too?"

"I said I was sorry," said Neville, muttering.

"What were you talking to him about anyway? It didn't look like a very friendly conversation from our end," said Ron, addressing her and ignoring Malfoy completely. Harry suddenly noticed Ron's prefect badge was pinned to his blue sweater.

"I said it's none of your business, Weasel!" said Malfoy. "I'm a prefect too, don't you forget."

Ron scowled. "McGonagall told us to look for any funny business at Hogsmeade. You certainly look funny enough to me."

"Ron!" said Hermione.

Luna, however, wasn't paying any attention to their squabbling. Instead, she was staring at Malfoy with her piercing blue eyes.

He noticed her staring at him and narrowed his eyes. "What do you want, _Loony_ Lovegood?"

She shrugged. "You have a faint aura around you. Before, it's always been black, but now it's really rather gray. I think it suits you. You don't look as mad as you always do. Is it because your father's in prison? Or because you don't like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named so much now?"

Malfoy's lips tightened with fury.

"Don't you _dare_ speak of my father. Or the Dark Lord!" he said.

Alarmed, Luna pulled back, and whispered to Ginny, "The black is back."

As if to prove her point, the thunder cracked loudly, and the daylight grew even more dim and dark as night was coming on earlier than normal. The eight of them, however, took no notice.

"There's no reason to be rude," said Ginny sternly to Malfoy. "She can't help it if she sees things others can't."

"Of course she can't," Malfoy sneered, "She's loony!"

"Stop calling her that!" said Hermione.

"She isn't loony," said Ron. "If you would stop being an insufferable git—"

"He's not a git!" said Meghan Freeman, defending him. "You just don't like him because he's a Slytherin—"

"No, _we _don't like him because he's a Death Eater—" snarled Harry.

She at once shrieked in indignation, and Neville jumped in before she could attack anyone again. The seven of them were all shouting at each other within moments.

Nobody noticed how the air seemed to crackle around them as the students squabbled amongst themselves. Nor did they see how quickly Luna had backed away farther into the alley, or how her breathing had quickened, or how her hair seemed to stand on end with electrifying static.

"_Stop it!" _she shrieked.

There was a sudden flash of lightning that split the alley in two, and the metal sign that read "Blood Traitor's Alley" lit up in blindingly sheer whiteness.

It was ten feet from where they were standing—the lightning struck it with a force that no magic could rival, and for one phenomenal second, the sign and the lightning bolt had become one.

At once, the girls were slammed into the boys and they all were thrown backwards.

As soon as it had come, the lightning was gone, leaving the sign nothing but a blackened, gnarled stick in the ground, a large ring of burnt grass and cobblestones around it.

To Harry, nothing was weirder than waking up with Ginny on top of him and Draco Malfoy at his side. A pink Hermione, meanwhile, was picking herself up off Ron for the second time that term, and Neville and Meghan Freeman were helping each other up, blushing. Thick raindrops fell down on them, quickly changing to hail. And all too late, Harry forgot they were supposed to send out a Patronus.

But nothing, however, was so odd as what happened to Luna.

She had been further away from the lightning than the rest of them, and had thus not been thrown backwards. She was standing alone in the middle of the alley, looking down at the seven of them sprawled on the ground. Her eyes became strangely unfixed and wide, her head tilted to the side, as if she was listening to something. Then she opened her mouth and said, in a voice unlike her own—

"_Black to red, and red to brown_

_Shall truly bring the darkness down,_

_But brown to white, and white to black_

_Shall find the light and bring it back."_

The other seven reacted in different ways to her pronouncement. Harry and Ron looked at each other bewildered, in the time that Ginny raised a brow and Hermione's eyes widened in realization. Meghan gasped, Neville blinked in confusion, while Draco Malfoy simply picked himself off the ground, wanting to put as much space between him and the other Gryffindors as he could.

"What in the holy name of Slytherin was that?" he said, looking at Luna.

"I think she made a prophecy," said Hermione, still aghast.

"No, I think she made _lightning_!" said Ron, alarmed.

"She sounded like the Sorting Hat," said Harry, helping Ginny up.

"She sounded like a nutcase," muttered Malfoy.

"But what does it mean?" said Ginny. " 'Black to red, and red to brown'..."

"I don't know," said Neville, doggedly. "But I'm going to go find some cover. This hail is starting to hurt."

That didn't sound like too bad of an idea, and they all split ways.

Eight faces cringed under the weight of the hailstones, and eight umbrella charms went back up, completely covering the two redheads, the two brunets, the two that were raven-haired, and the two with hair that was almost white.

Malfoy shoved past them and headed down the street towards the Shrieking Shack. Ron, Neville, and Ginny picked up their things and started for Honeydukes once more, deep in conversation. Luna followed them, seemingly herself again, and Hermione ran to catch up with her, no doubt with questions about what Luna had said. Meghan Freeman was about to take off as well, when Harry pulled her back.

"Back there," he said quietly. "I need to know what you and Malfoy were arguing about."

It struck him then that he was conversing with a Slytherin who wasn't about to hex him. _Well, there's a first for everything._

"No, you don't," Freeman retorted.

He cast about for something that would persuade her, but drew a blank. "Er...please?"

She glared at him. "Fine," Freeman said, and sighed. "He told me to stay in the castle on Halloween. Even though there's a ball plus the new joke shop opening. Don't know what he was thinking...of course I'm not going to miss the party...I don't care if none of the other Slytherins want to go..."

"Wait, why wouldn't he want you to go?"

"If you're so interested, _Potter_, why don't you go put on your pretty lipstick and frilly dress and just ask him yourself," she said, voice saccharine. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to go out with you.'

Harry let her go, and stared after her thoughtfully. Malfoy wanted her to stay at the castle? Why in Dangerous Dai's good name would he want her to do that?

"Harry!" Hermione called.

She, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna were all hanging back for him. Malfoy and Meghan Freeman weren't too far away. Harry jogged to catch up with them.

When he caught up, Hermione clutched Harry's arm. "Harry—I forgot—I need to speak with you and Ron both about something that I've found out. It's about the Sorting Hat's Riddle at start-of-term. It's too late today, but will you meet me tomorrow in the library after the D.A. meeting gets out?"

Harry nodded absently. He couldn't help but notice that all the others heard her say that, but he shrugged it off.

And as they left, he couldn't help glancing behind them at the darkened street of Blood Traitor's Alley.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I really am sorry this chapter took a while in coming. I got such lovely reviews! But I hurt my good arm at work the other day and have been icing it and taking painkillers and trying not to move it, so editing and posting was out of the question.**

**On a happier note I decided to add in another element to the plot that I hadn't thought of exploring till now! But it won't happen for another few chapters, so I guess you'll just need to wait. But it has to deal with Ron and Hermione...and a pear.**

**Next up is "The Triquetra Effect", which I hope answers some of your questions.**

**Let me know what you think? Like it? Hate it? Want more Romione? More Hinny? More Ravender? More Krumione? More...Cormilda? Severones? Remones? ...yeah, I have NO idea what those ships are called, I'm just making names up. Anyway, you ask, and I'll deliver. As I said, these chapters are already written, but I can always write more scenes and stick them here and there whenever I wish without it interrupting the story by much. Unless...you're a weirdo and want weird things. **

**Or I could give you more of a certain character? Want more of a certain subplot or scenery or anything at all in particular you want me to write about? Let me know and I'll deliver! **

**Within _reason_, mind you. I'm not about to make Harry turn into a fish animagus and get eaten by the giant squid... **


	28. The Horrible Plight of Harry Potter

**THE HORRIBLE PLIGHT OF HARRY POTTER**

Hermione was wrong.

It turned out that Dumbledore was, in fact, back that same day. Apparently the news of what happened to Tonks, Ginny, and Rosmerta reached his ears, and he deemed it more important to be at Hogwarts. This news lightened Harry considerably, and he had another meeting with the Headmaster mere hours after the Hogsmeade trip, which buoyed his spirits considerably.

He told Dumbledore everything that happened, and knew that the wizard also had sat down with each of the girls present, as well as Ron and Charlie, to get their own version of events. Harry provided his memory to Dumbledore, and he was told that his friends did too, although Dumbledore left it entirely up to them on whether they wanted him to see their innermost mind. He met with them separately so their own recollections of what happened would not, in any way, influence each other's.

With all of these precautions in place, Dumbledore strictly forbade them to go out of the castle and its wards.

No more Hogsmeade trips.

No going to Grimmauld Place or the Burrow over the winter or spring breaks.

No midnight excursions to the Forbidden Forest. (_It's not like we ever go there for the fun of it, anyway..._thought Harry moodily, thinking back on all the dangerous things going on that made those eerie trips even worthwhile).

And no stepping out of bounds, whatsoever.

The news about the Imperius spread like a virus throughout the school. Of course, none of the versions were completely accurate, but they all told around the same story. There were dozens of people who saw what happened to Tonks. Though most did not know her, everyone thought she for sure had died as a result from the curse. There was also the fact that everyone knew Ginny and Hermione were at the heart of it all.

Understandably, both girls were traumatized by the event. As soon as they got back to the castle, Madam Pomfrey took Ginny under her wing, wanting to keep her overnight in observation since sometimes the Imperius Curse could have lingering effects. It was there that Dumbledore talked with her about what she remembered, though Harry wasn't privy to that conversation.

During his own talk with Dumbledore, Harry told the Headmaster about what happened at Blood Traitor's Alley. The lightning, what happened to Luna, everything. Dumbledore was most intrigued by this, and sat forward in his seat, most interested. Harry pulled the memory of it from his mind, and he and Dumbledore both dove into the Pensieve together. When they had come out of it, Harry watched Dumbledore pace around the room, mumbling to himself.

"Sir…" said Harry haltingly. "Do you think...does this mean...is _Luna Lovegood_ the Heir of Ravenclaw?"

"Perhaps, Harry. I'm not entirely sure. It is astute of you to make the assumption. It does coincide with what we do know about the gifts and the heirs. If she is descended from Rowena Ravenclaw, which I believe she might be, and has also touched the gift, that would have been what caused her powers to ignite in this way. I will be speaking with her shortly...yes, yes...this is wise…" Dumbledore muttered this last, trailing off.

Harry sat back in his seat, enthralled.

_I mean...Dumbledore being the Heir of Gryffindor is one thing...it's kind of expected of him, isn't it...and Voldemort being heir to Slytherin is obvious...but for Luna..._Luna Lovegood_...to be an heir as well, is just...just…_

Surreal.

He left his meeting with Dumbledore feeling very uplifted. The Headmaster had quite a soothing calmness to him and Harry just knew that everything was going to be better.

* * *

Hermione looked down at Ginny in the hospital bed, feel nerve-wracked and guilty. It was all her fault Ginny was even in this predicament. How could she have just assumed Ginny was all right in the bathroom and not gone in to check on her? Why couldn't she have stayed there with Ginny the whole time and not left her alone?

Hermione, Harry, Neville, and Luna were sitting beside her bed, waiting for Ron who was the last of them now being interviewed by the Headmaster. While they waited, they were talking gravely about who might have Imperiused Ginny and Rosmerta. Malfoy was still their top suspect, despite the fact that Hermione hadn't seen him near the bar.

"Of course you wouldn't have, he'd've gone to the bathrooms by then, waiting for Rosmerta to go back to the stockrooms to catch her alone," Harry argued.

"There are enchantments surrounding that place, Harry," said Hermione. "Death Eaters can't just waltz right in and do as they please. Rosmerta would have had anti-apparition wards, anti-offensive wards; she could have had various types of criminal wards and curse wards. It is far more likely that someone caught her outside, and then she herself took the wards down to cast the one on Ginny—"

"Please, could we just stop talking about it?" Ginny asked miserably. "I need a break, honestly. Between it actually happening and talking to Kingsley and then talking to Dumbledore and now you three, I haven't had a moment's break."

"You're right, we're sorry," Neville apologized. "Should we leave and let you get some rest then?"

"No," Ginny said, "but you can stop hoarding the cockroach clusters and let me have some."

They chuckled and opened some more of their Honeydukes purchases.

Just then, Ron came in the hospital wing, and Hermione stared at him, feeling horrible. Ron had been so good with Ginny after it happened. Holding her, calming her down, talking with her in quiet tones…

And yet, Hermione had been such a horrible person to him all month long. Ever since the first Hogsmeade trip at the start of October. Ever since she first started going out with Viktor. Ever since he first started going out with Lavender. Four weeks of hell.

He was so good, and kind...she didn't deserve him. All these attacks on her life proved about as much.

If only she could travel back in time to that first Hogsmeade trip. She wouldn't have taken Ginny's ill advice and gone out with Viktor to "make Ron jealous". She wouldn't have gone with him into that clearing and wouldn't have encountered Greyback as an offset. She would have just told Viktor no and gone back to find Ron. She would have been there when he was attacked by the Death Eater. She could have helped him. It would have been Hermione that Ron turned to for comfort instead of Lavender. It would have been Hermione that he kissed in the entrance hall in front of the school...not Lavender.

And it was all her fault.

"That wasn't too bad," said Ron as he strolled over, hands in his pockets, his blue sweater covered in scorch marks and looking very worse for wear.

"What're you lot laughing about?" he asked, sitting on the bed beside Hermione, and taking a cockroach cluster.

Luna said something that made the rest of them laugh, but Hermione was no longer listening. Still caught up in her own deprecating thoughts, Hermione was horrified to feel her eyes tearing up, and she hurriedly wiped at them with her sleeve when she thought nobody was looking.

Ron saw, though.

He nudged her when Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Luna were preoccupied talking amongst themselves.

"Hey," he whispered. "You all right?"

_I don't deserve him. I'm such a horrible person. Why do I always muck up everything between us?_

Embarrassed to be caught crying, Hermione sniffled and nodded, wiping at her face again. "Yeah, sorry, don't mind me. Sometimes girls just tear up without any good reason."

She tried to chuckle and laugh it off, but he saw right through her lie.

"You don't. You always have a good reason. And today you have more reasons than most. I don't think anybody would blame you for crying," he said, concerned.

Hermione bit her lip. Thankfully her body was just as humiliated as she was to be crying in public, and she felt the tears ebb off. She let out a deep breath. "Thank you, Ron."

Smiling, although it didn't quite reach his eyes (she couldn't find fault with that...there was hardly anything to laugh or joke about…), Ron just budged her shoulder with his own again. "You're welcome."

They tuned back in to the others conversation, which had gravitated towards Quidditch (as conversations tended to do). Apparently, Luna had thrown her name into the mix for being the commentator of the match. And Hermione simply sat and smiled politely when eyes turned to her, nodding at the appropriate moments, and murmuring in agreement when there was a lull.

Harry reached for a forgotten brown bottle of amber liquid in the clear glass at the bottom of one of their bags.

"Anyone fancy a bottle of butterbeer? Unless you don't want to open it now…" said Harry, inspecting it.

"As long as it wasn't made with squireditchery roots in it, I'm up for anything," said Luna, looking interested.

"Dunno, it isn't mine," said Ginny, shrugging. "I'm dying of thirst though. I could go for some."

"There's a card with it. It looks like The Three Broomsticks has given us some complimentary butterbeer," said Harry, reading it to himself. "On account of Rosmerta cursing you and all. She must have slipped it in your bag."

Ron snorted. "They almost kill the customers and all they give us is one bottle? I'd've asked for a hundred cases of the stuff."

"It's not really the establishment's fault for what Rosmerta did...she was cursed as well," said Neville, always looking for the good in everyone.

Harry shrugged and conjured five cups, pouring some for them, and passing them out. Luna sniffed hers and passed it back to him.

"No, thank you," she said politely. "It smells funny."

The others grinned in their cups. Harry set it aside and then raised the bottle, grave again. "Here's to capturing the slimy git that's been doing this."

The others raised their glasses. "Here, here!"

They put the glasses to their lips, and the liquid went inside.

Ron spewed his drink out.

Hermione spewed her drink out.

Ginny spewed her drink out.

Neville spewed his drink out.

Harry, however, gulped his drink down.

The others' cries of shock and disgust were cut off abruptly as Harry fell to the floor.

"_Harry!" _Ginny gasped. "What…"

They watched in shock as Harry writhed on the floor, white foam dribbling out of his mouth, his neck stiff, veins throbbing.

Hermione shrieked, "He's having a seizure! We need to turn him on his side!"

Ron and Neville rushed forward and turned him over.

"It's poison," Ron realized. "We need a—"

_Bezoar._ Vaguely he remembered their Potions homework the other night, and Hermione lecturing him on the benefits of bezoars. But where the hell was he going to find a—

Inspiration struck, and Ron whipped out his wand, pointing it straight towards Madam Pomfrey's vast array of medicine cupboards and closets.

"_Accio bezoar!" _He roared.

Glass shattered as the bezoar shot out of a drawer and zoomed through a glass pane.

Ron caught it deftly in his hand and shoved it into Harry's foaming mouth.

"Nice catch, Ron," said Luna. Her attention turned back to the writhing boy on the floor. "I did think the butterbeer smelled funny..."

The five of them watched in jaw-dropping silence as Harry's body slowly stopped twitching...then stilled...then relaxed.

"What in _heaven's_ name…" gasped Madam Pomfrey as she came into the room. She saw Harry's still body on the floor and the horror painted on their features, and ran forward.

"What happened to him?" Madam Pomfrey asked them gravely, as she ran a diagnostics spell and realized the danger had already passed.

Wordlessly, they pointed to the bottle of not-butterbeer, which sat unassuming on the nightstand beside Ginny's bed.

Or rather...the bottle of poison.

* * *

It was a day of horror, between what happened to Ginny, what happened to Rosmerta, what almost happened to Hermione, what _did _happen to Tonks, and now with what happened to Harry.

Ron was lauded as a hero by the professors as they all gathered around Harry's bedside. Harry was currently out of it, but Madam Pomfrey expected he was all right now thanks to how quickly Ron acted, and would be out of the hospital wing in no time.

Ginny was given a much-needed calming draught as soon as an unconscious Harry was levitated to the bed next to hers. The day's events proved to be too much for her, and the ordinarily unperturbed girl started crying and hyperventilating.

"There, there, drink up now," said Madam Pomfrey as Ginny gulped the small bottle down. "You've had a very trying day. Time to rest now."

Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna were sad to leave the pair of them, but when Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a bunch of potions and Ginny's eyes started drooping, they excused themselves to go down to dinner.

It was an odd experience, falling asleep next to Harry, but Ginny found she couldn't stop looking at his face, worried about him and wondering what life was like for him...how lonely he must be...how peaceful he looked as he slept...how...how…

_Ginevra, stop it. You're falling in love with him again, aren't you...you silly, lovesick schoolgirl…_

But she found she couldn't help it. He was just so...special…

_Of course he is, you idiot, he's "the Chosen One"._

But that wasn't all, was it, he was so kind to everyone, and not arrogant or boastful in the slightest…

_Well, duh, that's how come you fell in love with him in the first place._

And Dangerous Dai, was he good looking—

_You tart! You can't make your decision on that alone!_

—with that dark, spiky hair, and those eyes...those eyes, how she could drown in them—

—_Ginny, snap out of it, he's your friend, he's your friend, he's your friend—_

—and his...his...his heart...wasn't he the sweetest...and…

And it was then that the calming draught overtook her, and Ginny fell asleep.

* * *

Harry woke up, and immediately felt sore all over. _Merlin abroad, what the hell…_

He sat up and blinked groggily.

"Hold your hippogriffs, there," said a girl, and a small hand pushed him back down. "I still need to check you over again.

Harry stared at the bleary dark-haired Meghan Freeman for a moment, then realized he didn't have his glasses on.

"You all right, Potter?" said Meghan quietly after a moment, still concentrating on the blue mist hovering over him, seeing something he could not understand.

Harry looked over to see a fuzzy Ginny, the moonlight's red glow from the high latticed windows creating a halo around her hair as she slept. The curtains were drawn around her bed, but had not completely closed.

"Sore," he croaked. "What time s'it?"

"Around ten at night, I believe," said Meghan. "You were out for quite a while. Six hours or so."

Laying still while Meghan Freeman ran her wand over his body, Harry tried to piece together what had happened.

"What...happened?" he gasped out, his throat still remarkably in pain, even with the effects of the potions he knew he was under. "I remember drinking...something that was definitely _not _butterbeer."

"You were poisoned," said Meghan simply. "I heard the professors talking about it. Granger, Weasley, She-Weasley, and Neville had enough sense to spit theirs out. You, however...there's just something about you thick-headed Gryffindors that really lays on the idiocy."

_Poisoned. Of course I was. Everything else has happened to me, might as well just throw that in there too._

Harry didn't feel irritation at her insult, oddly enough. He really liked Freeman and her sarcastically biting comments. Perhaps it was her braided hair and the beads on the ends of each that made her less threatening and more spunky than the other Slytherins.

"How is Ginny? Have you checked her already?" he asked, worried for the other girl.

"She is fine, although she'll be a bit disoriented when she wakes up. What Madam Pomfrey gave her sometimes makes people...rather loopy when they wake up," she said with a grin.

Satisfied, Harry went back to staring at the red hair spilling over the pillow through the curtain gap. He couldn't help but feel anxiety over Ginny and what happened to her earlier today.

"Your liver is inflamed," Meghan continued, and Harry brought his attention back to his own bed. "I'm recommending Madam Pomfrey give you another round of the Detox Draughts to cleanse your system. You're lucky you have me, you know. I reckon you'd have had days in the hospital wing, if not weeks, if I hadn't healed your liver for you. But you look right as rain! Probably a night in the wing after Madam Pomfrey gives you the draughts, and we'll check your vitals again in the morning before you can get out of here."

Harry furrowed his brow, wondering how she healed his liver, but she wouldn't meet his eyes, and he didn't want to pry or sound ungrateful.

"Thank you. That was very kind of you. Do you help Madam Pomfrey then?" he asked, eyeing her wand as it hovered over his abdomen, the thick blue mist rising above his body and showing his respiratory veins mapped out.

Meghan smiled proudly. "I am her apprentice. I've always been really good at healing things. Madam Pomfrey was quite impressed with me when she first met me. But I had to wait till I was a fifth-year to begin my training. I'm not here all the time of course. Just whenever I can get a moment's break after classes and on weekends. Nice to get out of the Slytherin common room and away from their pompous arses whenever I can."

Harry nodded, impressed.

Ginny chose that moment to wake up, rustling around her bed before opening her eyes and peeking over at them, grinning widely.

"Hi, Harry," she said sleepily. "What are you in for?"

Harry grinned at her obvious tipsy euphoria. Meghan sniggered

* * *

Not for the first time, Ronald Bilius Weasley woke up yelling.

He calmed down as soon as he realized it was just a dream, but his gasps filled the bubble of a silencing charm that surrounded his bed. This bubble was proving quite useful to block out his yells from the rest of the boys because Harry hadn't been there to give Ron the usual Dreamless Sleep potion, and Ron—in his worry over both Harry and Ginny both in the hospital wing—had completely forgotten to take it before he fell asleep in his bed, fully dressed.

This wouldn't be the only time Ron would wake up with a nightmare.

Shudders racked his body as he sat up, feet swinging over the side of the bed. He rubbed his eyes, grabbed his wand, and cast a Tempus.

3:16.

He went off to use the loo, then came back to bed, just sitting on the edge and wondering what he should do. Stay awake? He wasn't particularly tired right now. Maybe read a comic in bed, or steal down to the kitchens for a bite, or go down to the common room to stare moodily at the fire…

Or visit Harry and Ginny in the hospital wing.

His eyes flitted over to Harry's empty bed, remembering with a pang what happened mere hours before. The Imperius and the curse and the poison, and how many people he knew that were now in the hospital was just staggering.

Tonks still hadn't woken up, Charlie had popped in to tell him. Tonks' prognosis did not look good at all. Seeing his older brother so worried, so frazzled...

It scared Ron.

Worry for Harry, for Ginny, for Tonks, for Hermione, welled up inside him, and he found he just couldn't go back to sleep right now. Not when nothing was right in the world.

Mind made up, Ron grabbed Harry's Invisibility Cloak, the Map, and his slippers, and shuffled off.

When he entered the common room, he was startled to find Hermione sleeping on the couch in front of the fire. He crept towards her, and watched her sleep for a moment, heart softened. She looked so peaceful, and so...so…

Innocent. Beautiful. Serene.

He resisted the urge to draw the lock of hair off her face that had fallen. Her head was supported by three cushions, and still her arm felt the need to hold it up as well. Her legs were tucked under her body in the frigid air, and even though she had a nightrobe on, Ron could tell her warming charm had long since died out.

Conjuring a blanket, he started draping it over her, but this act alone woke her up, and she sat up, disheveled.

"Ron? Oh… Sorry, I guess I couldn't sleep in my bed after we got back from dinner. Not with...everything that happened. What time is it?" she muttered, yawning.

Ron grinned at her disarrayed hair. "Just after three. You should go back to sleep though, I didn't mean to wake you. You looked...cold."

Hermione smiled, her cheeks red even in the chill. "Thanks, Ron. Where are you off to?"

"Oh, I...well, I had a nightmare and couldn't fall back asleep, so I thought I'd go and get a bite from the kitchens. Maybe sneak into the Hospital Wing and see if Harry and Ginny are awake. Do you want to come with? We could...talk."

"Talking sounds great, but…" The smile slid off her face. "Ron, it...it isn't safe…gallivanting without the Auror guards..."

Ron saw her insecurity, and knew he couldn't just make light of it, especially after the long day they'd had.

Plopping down on the couch beside her, Ron unlocked the Map. They both peered over the pages and Ron traced the route to the kitchens, showing it clear from anyone and anything.

"Not if we keep the Cloak on, and keep the Map out, see? There are no Death Eaters in the castle, I can't even see any Slytherins anywhere here besides their dorms, all the prefects have gone to bed, and the Auror guards are all the way over on the outskirts. We'll be fine…" said Ron.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione stood up. "All right. I'm in. I really could use some of Dobby's brandy snaps and hot butterbeer…"

"Really? I thought with the near-death experiences we keep having with the Three Broomsticks and butterbeers, you'd know better by now," Ron stated wryly.

Hermione laughed.

It was a bit awkward, but they did manage it. They stayed hidden under the Cloak, covered by a silencing spell to mask the mutterings and putterings. When they stepped through the pear painting, snickering, there weren't quite as many house elves as they were used to seeing. But Dobby provided enough company, and they sat down beside him as he made the brandy snaps and butterbeer, much to Hermione's chagrin.

"Anything for Harry's Wheezy!" Dobby said earnestly, happy to oblige. "Biddy and Dingy love to make the butterbeers, sir, yes they do!"

There weren't many other house elves, as most of them were sleeping, but the few others in the kitchen hurried forward, and Hermione fell into conversation with the girl elf, Biddy, as she added the ingredients to a small cauldron over the fire.

"Oh, is Winky still here?" said Hermione, looking around.

"Oh, yes, miss, yes, Winky is loving here very much!" Dobby exclaimed as they watched him begin work on the brandy snaps. "She is off on holidays with her mother, miss!"

Hermione beamed. "That's wonderful!"

And all too soon, the food was made, and Ron and Hermione were both talking and laughing as if they'd never been at odds with each other; as if they'd never started seeing other people; as if they weren't currently being hunted down by their world's darkest sorcerer.

But this wasn't the only reason Ron wanted Hermione to come with him.

"Hermione," he said after a while, setting his glass down. "We need to talk."

She grew silent and nodded to her slippers. "You're right. We do."

Not exactly knowing where to start, but gathering up the courage for it anyway, Ron cleared his throat.

"You know I love you as a friend. But...we have not been very friendly towards each other as of late."

Hermione shook her head miserably. "We haven't."

"You know we can't help Harry if we are constantly bickering with each other."

Just as depressed—"We can't."

"You know we don't act as we should, and we let our emotions get in the way of us, and don't treat each other kindly and with respect."

Still morose—"We don't."

"And so, I propose we draw up a set of rules. Starting here and now," said Ron, conjuring a scroll and quill, his handwriting loopy but tidy as he wrote the title on the top.

"Ron, that's a spectacular idea! You're so brilliant!" said Hermione, grinning again.

"All right, I've got it. '_Rules of our Relationship'._ Now...rule number one: We never, _ever _resort to name-calling, insulting, or ridiculing. No matter how bad things get," said Ron, scribbling that down.

Hermione nodded vigorously. Getting into the spirit of things, she sat on the edge of her seat. "Rule number two: We always confide in each other what we are feeling as we are feeling it and not bottle things up anymore to be exploded later."

"I have an addendum to that one," inserted Ron. "Let's word it…'We always confide in each other what we are feeling as we are feeling it, provided it is said agreeably. If we need to back off before a fight breaks out and cool down first, we ask for…"

"_Arresto," _Hermione breathed. "From the spell, you know...to bring to a stop. We stop the argument before it gets bad, go cool down, and come together again to talk it out when we can think of how to say it without wounding each other. And if we are in public, that could be our...codeword, if you will."

Ron nodded, jotting that all down. "Perfect. Rule number three: Absolutely no fighting in public."

"Addendum: Absolutely no fighting, _period. _Discussions, fine. Disagreements...fine. I suppose we wouldn't be us if we didn't bicker occasionally. But no actual fights."

"All right, how about...rule number four: Any discussions, disagreements, or dislikes be addressed only when we are alone. Not in front of Harry, not in front of Ginny..._nobody_."

"Honestly, that one should have been enacted all along. We really would have saved a lot of people a lot of heartache if we'd only had the sense to keep our arguments strictly between us."

"Rule number five: Don't criticize each other's partners, friends, or family."

Hermione winced at this. "I really am sorry for calling Lavender a tart. She isn't really. You should hear her talking as we get ready for bed every night. It's always 'Ron this' and 'Ron that'. She is actually very into you."

Although his quill kept writing down the rules, Ron's ears were very attune to her words. _Lavender likes me!_

He grinned, in spite of himself. "Yeah, she's pretty cool."

"Rule number six: We find a safe space to talk things out, and when we do, we come to a resolution right then and there," said Hermione. "For example, if you think I'm too bossy and controlling—which I can honestly admit that I am—then I need you to say 'Hermione, I feel like you need to let go of the situation, and let me handle it', and then I will oblige."

Ron studied her for a minute. "I could step up more."

"And I could step down more. Honestly, I don't like doing all the work. It makes me...extremely frustrated with you and Harry."

"All the work?"

"Researching. I've been up to my conical hat in books with everything I've been doing."

"What all have you been doing?" Ron asked in alarm.

"Well, researching the Wolflord Potion, for one. I've been working with Professor Snape, Jones, and Lupin to find out how exactly it works with the body, so we can figure out how to counteract it," said Hermione, and ticked the items off with her fingers. "I've been translating _Artificium Merlini _from its original Latin, I've been researching Merlin and his life so we can understand that riddle better, I've been researching the Founders' heirs to see who they could be, I've been researching the Founders' gifts, I've been trying to stay ahead in all our classes…"

Ron was wide-eyed.

"Well, no wonder you're exhausted all the time! Have you even been taking care of yourself?" he asked her, concerned.

"Apparently not, since I keep flying off the handle at you for the tiniest things," said Hermione, looking quite the guilty party.

_You're not the only one, _Ron thought, his words to her during their arguments coming back to him.

_Did I seriously accuse her of...of..._shagging Harry? _Merlin, Mum would kill me if she ever found out. Dad would wring my neck. I can't believe I used that kind of language in front of her. I was just so angry, it slipped out. Too afraid it would come true._

_I'm an arse._

Hermione was in the same predicament with her own thoughts, but she was far more vocal.

"Merlin, I've been so foolish, Ron. Arguing with you...insulting you...making half-witted, reckless decisions. I truly am sorry. I think Lavender is so lucky to have you. You're so kind and sweet, and there are so many things that you are so good at. I know you don't think so, but Ron...you really are the best Weasley."

Ron's ears reddened at her words. They kept repeating in his head, and he stared down at his glass mug and the frothy bubbles lingering at the bottom of it. He was too embarrassed and unsure of his words to really say anything back to her, so all he could do was grunt a "Thanks."

It wasn't enough though. He knew it wasn't.

So he opened his mouth again. "Krum really is a great guy. I know I've been taking the mickey out of you for it, but...you know, the other day he came over to me and asked me if I could help keep an eye on you. You know, with...with all this stuff going on. He said he's just so busy all the time, and knowing that Harry and I would both be watching out for you during all the times he can't, it really...well, it...I know he...he...cares for you...a lot. So...yeah."

Hermione's face lit up.

They fell into another silence, although it was decidedly less awkward.

"You know, I really don't mean to be a hypocrite," she said in a rather small, un-Hermione-like voice. "I know I have a million flaws. I'm not delusional, I've never thought I was perfect, even when I sure acted like I was. But seeing you with Lavender really...it got to me. I'm not proud of this, Ron, but I was really mean to you. And to Lav. I called her things I shouldn't've, and insinuated things that were untrue. Please, do you forgive me? I understand if you don't, and I'm all right with earning your forgiveness, honestly. Whatever it takes to mend our broken friendship."

_Friendship._

Ron's heart, which had been rising from her words, sunk once more at that.

_Friendship._

Nothing less...but nothing more.

"Apology accepted," he said gruffly. "But you know the same applies to me. I said a hell of a lot and it was...I was a prick, plain and simple. The things I said…"

"Apology accepted," said Hermione with a smile.

Another silence.

"Are you...still planning on breaking up with Lavender? Or have your feelings for her changed?" said Hermione tentatively.

"I don't want to hurt her feelings," said Ron, resolutely. "I don't know how I'm going to do it. But I do know she would be happier with someone else. I'm not...what she wants. Or what she needs."

"And you?"

"I...I don't know what I want, really. Or what I need."

_You. I need you. _But Ron shoved those thoughts away just as soon as he'd thought them. He did _not _'need' Hermione. She was his friend, nothing more. Besides. She was taken. She'd made her choice. She was with Viktor Krum, and she appeared to really like him.

He wondered if he should ask her about Krum, and if she would ever break up with him, then decided he really didn't want to know.

She saw his thought process, however, and reached the same conclusion.

"I know you don't like Viktor. It really means a lot to me to hear what you said of him though. Honestly, Ron, he is so sweet, but I suppose…" Hermione halted.

He waited for her to continue.

Hermioned reddened and fiddled with her fingers, talking downwards in embarrassment.

"I thought I did...but I guess I don't really see myself with Viktor in the long run," she whispered. "I've never told him this, probably because I didn't come to the realization till today. When I saw Tonks rise into the air, and knew that curse had been meant for me. But...there's just so much he doesn't know or understand. There are so many things that we've been through—you, Harry, and I—that excludes him. So many things that he and I cannot connect with each other on. But...like you said with Lavender...I really don't want to hurt him. He is such a great guy. He deserves to have someone far better than me…someone who looks like she's going out with a Quidditch star, like Lavender. Or is in the same things he's into, like Ginny. Or who thinks the world of him, like his fans. I'm hardly Viktor Krum material…"

Her words and thought process trailed off between them just as the flames in the hearth could only reach so high.

But Ron's heart was soaring.

He fought to keep the grin from reaching his face, so stood up abruptly.

"Well. Tough luck being Viktor Krum and all. But we really should be getting back. Ready to go?" he asked.

She took the hand he offered, and let him pull her off the couch, wondering, "Do you think it's too late to go visit Harry and Ginny?"

The grin slid off Ron's face as he remembered what life was like outside of their little friendship bubble.

Tonks still might be dying. Harry still was poisoned. An Unforgivable Curse was still used on Ginny. Hell, they even got struck by _lightning _today.

And only Harry could stop all of that from happening.

"Rule number seven…" Ron paused, then looked down at her. "No matter what the cost..._always_ put Harry first."

Their dire situation came slamming into them like a swinging door.

They did not matter.

Their happiness did not matter.

Only Harry did. And destroying Voldemort.

"Always put Harry first," Hermione whispered in agreement. She moved closer to him as if the mere act of them standing united would protect Harry from where they stood.

Ron liked it.

The rule was written down, the scroll sealed up, and the quill done away with. Ron then pulled out the Marauders' Map. "Right then. _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_

Hermione cleaned their plates and cups with a quick charm before looking over the Map for the journey back to Gryffindor tower.

Ron talked as he scoured. "As far as Death Eaters go, I don't see anyone around...besides Dumbledore in the Astronomy Tower. Although it looks like Madam Pomfrey is making the rounds in the Hospital Wing. Looks like we won't be able to visit Ginny and Harry without her seeing...but they're prolly sleeping anyway, and—what're you looking at—"

Wordlessly, Hermione pointed to the bottom corner, where they were at in the kitchens. But their dots were...doing something funky. A speech bubble had appeared next to them, and the wall behind them wasn't a wall at all in the Map, but a door.

Ron stared, agape. "Is that another secret passageway?"

"It must be!" Hermione breathed.

They both whirled behind them and stared at the unassuming wall. Cautiously, they crept forward.

"I mean, I see a little picture in the stone...can't be bigger than a Sickle. What is that?" said Ron.

"I think it's a...badger. Which means this secret passageway is Founder-related. That means it's good and trustworthy...right?"

Ron nodded, pulling out his wand. "One way to find out for sure. Shall we?"

Hermione's questioning brown eyes just stared back at him, and she stood closer to him in trepidation.

"_Descendio Sanctum," _Ron intoned.

The wall opened up.

Cautiously, and with great trepidation, Ron stepped inside. Hermione followed him as he walked down the dark, dank stairs, wand lit for illumination. It was incredibly dusty and...webby.

He shuddered, seeing a large black widow stretched out upside down in the corner near his head, and Hermione gripped his arm in reassurance.

"_Arania Exumai," _said Ron, casting his wand, and sighed in relief when the spiders and their webs were driven away.

He breathed in a deep sigh to cast the heebie-jeebies away, and continued on until they came to a wrought iron door. Opening it with bated breath, they stepped in to find—

A sarcophagus.

A small light shone above it in the center of the tiny room, and on the rounded stone top of it was a single yellow rose, forever fresh and unwilting, in memoriam of the one who lay within.

"It's a—"

"_Tomb," _Hermione breathed for him.

Filled with awe and quietude, they crept forward to it, and saw words etched in stone on the wall above the sarcophagus.

"_Herein lies Helga Hufflepuff_

_The best of us all"_

Ron read it aloud in hushed tones, and the reality of the room and what was happening sunk into them both. They felt rather like they were in a cathedral, in the presence of someone great.

Then Hermione whispered, "Ron, _look!"_

And he looked and saw with a dropped jaw the reason Hermione's fingers were digging into his skin.

Above the sarcophagus, yet below the chiseled stone sign, was a small shelf with something sitting quite small an unassuming upon it.

It was the chalice of Hufflepuff.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**April Fools! I said the next chapter would be "The Triquetra Effect", but you got this one instead! Joke's on you! (Except not really, because this was completely by accident...haha...)**

**Truthfully, I had the other chapter all set up to be the next in line, but after AzureAlquimista's reviews (thanks so much by the way! I loved them all, they were very honest, you only got few things wrong but the rest was on the dot, and you touched on some very truthful points), I realized that I needed to complement Ron and Hermione better and get them ready for the next stage in their relationship, which is going from okay-friends, to better-than-friends. Let me know how I did! **

**And that's why it took me several days of non-updation so I could write the entirety of this chapter, have it fit in with the current teen relationships, the current plot, the current subplots, as well as adding in some canon fun-stuffs like having it be Harry instead of Ron being poisoned (did you like that?), and not have any of this mess up the current timeline. I think you all can tell by now that Halloween will be the date and setting of the climax.**

**Oh, and I threw in some Hints of Hinny in there just for you, WinkingSkeever and Guest. Hoping Books got enough Ron angst (I know, I know, you want some more...it's coming...), and Gja03, was this enough Romione for you? ;-)**

**Till next time. And yes, it really will be "The Triquetra Effect".**

**As always, drop a review and tell me what you want to see in the next few chapters! Someone asked for a chapter all in one character's POV, and that's what this next one is!**


	29. The Triquetra Effect

**THE TRIQUETRA EFFECT**

To say that Hermione could not sleep the rest of that night was an understatement.

When she and Ron got back to the common room, flushed-face with excitement, they couldn't help but talk in hushed whispers by the fire about the tomb and the Founder's Gift they had found. After a great debate (which a plea for _Arresto _had to be made), they had decided to keep the Gift where it was, as they believed it would be safest kept in that tomb. They would tell Harry and Dumbledore about it the first chance they could get.

But the fact they'd found Hufflepuff's tomb...and the gift nonetheless, was just…

Phenomenal.

Of course, she didn't forget the fact that she had seen footprints in the dusty room. Which meant someone had been there recently. Her first guess was Moony, as they knew that he'd had the gift last. But in the memory Harry saw, Professor Dumbledore told Moony to give it to "him" for safekeeping.

Which left them back at square one. And so the postulating continued...

Their throats became almost sore from all the talking (both from before the tomb was discovered and after). It wasn't until people came into the common room, that Hermione and Ron paused their frenzied whispers and looked at the clock.

Apparently, it was morning, breakfast was in an hour, and they would definitely not be getting any more sleep.

Hermione got ready for the day quickly before going back down to Ron and accompanying him to breakfast, their two Auror guards following them the whole way.

_It looks like it is Dawlish today, _she noted with displeasure. _And Ron's is Savage._

Being followed everywhere she went was really growing tiresome. She had hoped for a female Auror to make things a little less awkward when she had to use the loo (Dawlish so far had to make sure the bathroom stalls were all cleared first before letting her in, and then standing outside the bathroom door to prevent anyone else from going in), but apparently the Auror department hadn't accepted any new recruits in years. That, plus female Aurors were much harder to come by.

_I miss Tonks. Please let her be okay, please, please…_

Worry for her friend and guard clenched around her tightly, and she knew she wouldn't be able to eat.

_If I ever become Minister, I'm going to change the whole setup_, she thought furiously as she and Ron entered the Great Hall. _Witches shouldn't be afraid to become Aurors. The government shouldn't be so narcissistic that they think nobody new is good enough for them. And I certainly wouldn't let those two brutes loose in a castle of students._

Dawlish and Savage remained at the posts at the door, watching over all, and scaring everyone. She remembered what they did last year, arresting Hagrid and hurting poor McGonagall, amongst other things. The Headmaster must've had a conniption when he found out they were back.

And then she and Ron were sitting down, and she was brought back to the present once more.

All throughout breakfast, she and Ron continued their theorizing about the Founders' Heirs. They could be seen with their heads together, whispering conspiratorily about who the Hufflepuff Heir could be, and whether they knew of the tomb's existence.

However, Hermione was all too aware of the forlorn looks she was getting from Lavender's direction.

"It looks like somebody wants to spend some time with you," she told Ron with a gesture, when a lull appeared in their postulating.

He glanced over at Lavender, whose eyes were red as she sniffled into her porridge.

Nodding glumly, he said, "Yeah. I need to go see what's wrong with her."

An owl alighted in front of them just then, a scroll attached to its leg. Ron petted it as Hermione read the letter within. It was from Viktor, his dark calligraphy sprawling across the parchment, asking her to meet him at the Astronomy Tower after breakfast.

Hermione bit her lip, trying to decide. She had an hour before the D.A. meeting in the Great Hall, but she just didn't want to hang out with Viktor right now. But nor could she think of a good excuse not to. Besides...if she was going to break things off with him, might as well do it like a bandage and just rip it off.

Hurriedly, she wrote her answer on the back of the parchment and tied it back onto the owl's leg.

They went back to their conversation as the owl took off, but Hermione was no longer in the mood.

"I'm finished eating anyway, Ron, if you want to go spend time with her. I've been hogging you all morning and all yesterday just about. It isn't fair to her, being your girlfriend and all."

"Oh," Ron said, crestfallen. "But I was hoping we could both go up to the hospital wing and see Harry and Ginny be discharged…"

"You two should go on without me. I need to go talk to someone anyway. I'm sorry, Ron, I really do like your theory though, about Luna. Oh, and don't forget to meet me and Harry in the library after the D.A. meeting!"

She left him then, but couldn't get his kicked-puppy-dog look out of her mind as she left the table. The vindictive side of her wanted to sneer at him and tell him it was his own fault for going out with Lavender when he could have had Hermione ever since the Yule Ball two years ago.

"_Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"_

It wasn't like she had gone out with anyone last year too. She and Viktor had only written each other as friends. Ron's chances of asking her to go out with him were ripe then as well. And yet all year long...nothing.

"_Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon, doesn't mean we all have…"_

But her nasty remark from last year burned in her mind, and she immediately crushed that vindictive side, reprimanding herself for being cruel.

It was her own fault for asking Viktor to go out with her instead of Ron.

* * *

Hermione ascended the last stair to the Astronomy Tower with trepidation. Her thoughts to Ron the night before about Viktor resurfaced in her mind, and she wondered again if she should break up with him.

He stood, staring out at the vast landscape, not looking at her. Hermione crossed the observation deck, rounding the large metal statue of the sun and its surrounding orbits, and went to stand by him.

Long dark hair falling over his forehead, Hermione could not see his eyes from her perch. He didn't speak, though, and she felt as if she shouldn't too.

They both stared out over the mountains and forested lands together.

It was cold in the open, airy tower, however, and Hermione shivered from the breeze. She wasn't wearing a long traveling cloak as he was, and she felt much younger than her own seventeen years standing next to him in her Muggle jeans and white sweater. She rested a hand on the large, golden telescope beside her, fingering the cold bronze metal in an idling sort of way.

Her thoughts traveled to Ron and Lavender, still probably down in the Great Hall and eating to their hearts' content. No...not eating. They would be snogging, of course. Ron would've tried to cheer her up. Lavender would have been all too willing.

She shook them out of her thoughts.

The whistling wind rushed about them, making Viktor's cape lift in the air.

"Viktor...I need to tell you something…" she whispered quietly.

"No," he said turning to her. "Don't."

Then his lips were suddenly on hers in a swift movement she hadn't anticipated—she drew in an intake in surprise, but it was quickly muffled—his hands were in her hair, holding her neck, bringing her body up to match his in force and soon she was lost in what he was doing to her.

At first, she started pulling away, so she could talk to him. But he was too passionate. Too forceful. Like he knew that it was coming to an end and was trying to stop it.

And Hermione wondered if he knew what she was going to tell him, and this was his way of shutting her up. Perhaps he just wanted to put it off and have one more good day with her.

It was all she wanted too.

She gave in.

* * *

And all too soon it was time for their D.A. lesson in the Great Hall.

Hermione was far too distracted to be of any good help, however. Her Patronus wasn't near strong enough, and she kept glancing over at Ron as he taught several third years the different shield charms.

She felt guilty for her snogging session with Viktor, despite the fact that they had been somewhere private and he was her boyfriend. Really, she had chickened out. She was going to break up with him, but was too cowardly to follow through. Why did this keep happening to her when it came to him? Why was she so afraid in committing to the next step and making herself available, yet again, for Ron?

What if Ron didn't even want her?

What if he just laughed at her advances?

What if he started hating her again?

But as she watched him across the room, showing little Laurel Dippet on the proper wand movements, Hermione was very sure of at least one thing.

She still wanted him.

When Harry had woken and heard of Ron saving him, Harry had hugged him. Ron told her about it as they came down the stairs for their D.A. meeting, and Hermione thought it only fitting. She had been so impressed with Ron, for not just remembering her lecture about bezoars but for thinking of it so quickly when Harry was convulsing. And to think fast enough to just summon it like that instead of going over and rifling through drawers and cabinets when Harry didn't have that kind of time…

He saved Harry's life.

Supposed to be concentrating on the spells zooming around in front of her, Hermione blanked out. Her thoughts—which had been trying so hard to stay busy all morning—wandered to the frightful events of the previous day.

The last she'd heard, poor Tonks was in a coma at St. Mungo's, and Charlie hadn't left her bedside all day. The cursed necklace had been taken care of, and there was a very strict investigation underway.

And Hermione was tormented beyond repair.

It was her fault that Tonks was cursed. If only Hermione had felt how Dark an object that package had contained...if only Hermione had realized how mechanic and wooden Ginny was…if only she'd seen that Ginny was Imperiused...

None of that would have happened.

It didn't matter if she was being "fair" about the situation or not. Every time Hermione looked at the problem with a logical eye, the blame was hers.

It was her fault that _someone _Imperiused Rosmerta into Imperiusing Ginny (the more steps this person took, the more anonymity they had) into giving Hermione the cursed necklace. It was her fault that Ginny was even involved in any of this at all. She never should have left Ginny alone in the loo. She should have checked the loo first before going back up the stairs to the others. She should have realized Ginny wasn't acting herself. She shouldn't have taken the package. And she definitely _shouldn't _have let Tonks touch the Dark object that was meant for Hermione.

Tonks wouldn't be in the hospital if it weren't for Hermione.

Ginny wouldn't have been cursed if it weren't for Hermione.

Rosmerta wouldn't have been cursed if it weren't for Hermione.

Besides the fact that whoever Imperiused both women in the loo would have saved themselves all that hassle if only they had caught _Hermione _alone in the ladies' room in the first place.

Her friends would have been saved. She would have touched the necklace and been cursed...or put it on and been strangled...either way, nobody else would have been hurt at all.

And Hermione couldn't forgive herself of the blame.

Her night had been filled with nightmares of everyone she knew and loved rising up in the air as Tonks had done, eyes open and silently screaming in agony and fright.

And that was how she had awoken too.

"Watch out!" snapped Blaise Zabini, next to her.

Hermione jumped back as a spell shot right by her, narrowly missing her chest.

"S-sorry," she stammered, backing away from the dueling space between him and Cormac McLaggen.

"Oh, nonsense, Zabini," said Cormac, grinning. "Granger just wants in on the fun, spreading her legs wide in-between two fine, strapping young men. Like she does for Krum...Potter..._Weasley_..."

He stalked closer to her, then said in a voice only she could hear, "You know, if your chest was more endowed, my curse would have gotten you. Pity it didn't. It was _Engorgio."_

"Shove off, Cormac!" Hermione growled, and stalked off, wiping the tears from her eyes. She didn't hear his parting remarks, but also did not care what he had to say.

Damn Head Boy.

Quitting the D.A. lesson early, Hermione strode out of it, not caring for the glances shot her way.

Instead, she found an early solace in the library. In her anger over Cormac's crude insinuations about her spreading her legs for anyone, Hermione slammed down the usual books and scrolls onto her table. Then sat down to wait for the D.A. lesson to end and for Harry and Ron to come up here too. Exhausted from catching just a few hours of sleep last night, Hermione fought the buzzing and dreariness in her head.

She looked down at the scrolls spread in front of her, tears pricking her eyes. How long she stared at the table in front of her, she didn't know. But she then heard movements coming her way, and she hurriedly wiped her eyes before plastering a fake smile for Ron and Harry as they came into view.

Although it wasn't yet lunch-time, the room was darkened by storm clouds and the drizzly weather when the two boys arrived. It cast an eerily dark glow on the proceedings, that was lit only by a single light above their quiet table in the corner by the windows.

At first she was rather worried that they would be overheard in their conversation. As luck would have it, Draco Malfoy was settled on a table mere yards from hers, and he kept glancing over at her while she worked, freaking her out. There were still a few N.E.W.T. years studying hard throughout the library, but none were close to Hermione's favorite table in the back. As well, she had her table spread out with books and scrolls and bits of old parchment. She held one in particular in her hand—_Artificium Merlini._

"You okay?" Ron asked, concerned as he put a hand on the back of her chair.

Hermione nodded, glancing down. "Yes...just worried about Tonks."

The boys nodded glumly. "Me too."

Hermione took a deep breath and went to work.

"So over the past few months, I've taken to translating this book," she explained when Harry and Ron sat. "It's about Merlin and his life—I'm quite far into it, actually."

"Do we have to sit so close to him?" Harry muttered darkly, glancing at the Slytherin, who heard him and scowled.

Hermione cast a silencing charm around them for good measure.

"Where'd you get that?" said Ron, gesturing to the old tome.

"It was a birthday gift from Moony and Dumbledore—"

"_Dumbledore?_ He never gave me a birthday present," said Harry, disgruntled.

"He did too, that Cloak in first year—"

"That doesn't count, it was my dad's, Ron. And besides, that was Christmas—"

"_If_ you two would listen?" said Hermione, clearing her throat significantly. "Now, I wanted you here to tell you—"

"So what's this about the riddle?" said Ginny, coming over to them. Neville was with her. They came within the confinements of the silencing charm and sat down. "We couldn't help but overhear in Hogsmeade."

The smug smile on her face told Hermione that yes, Ginny could very well help overhearing.

Luna came over from behind a tower of books. She plunked them down on the table and sat with them. "What are you learning about?" she asked in her musically nasal voice.

"Merlin," said Harry and Ron together.

Hermione explained it all hastily to Ginny, Neville, and Luna.

"Join us, if you'd like," she added, then continued. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you what I've found out about Merlin. The book starts out describing his childhood and—get this—he was the son of Hestia Hesperus."

"Who?" said Neville.

"She married Godric Gryffindor," explained Ginny.

"Wait, what?" Ron blurted out. "Back up. If he was the son of Gryffindor and Hesperus, then how in Merlin's name could...er..._Merlin_ have taught Gryffindor and them how to be witches and wizards?"

"I didn't say he was the son of Gryffindor. He wasn't," Hermione stated with a knowing smile. "Hestia Hesperus had a child with another man before Gryffindor married her. This child _was Merlin_...only he was called Emrys back then. He was a baby when his father was killed, and about seven or so when his mother remarried."

"That still doesn't explain about him teaching them," said Ron stubbornly.

"The wizard Merlin invented the clock-hopper," said Luna, her protuberant eyes looking at Ron. "It makes you hop to anywhere you wish, and to any time you wish. That's how."

Ron snorted.

Hermione, however, grinned. "She's quite right, you know. Only, _we_ call it time-travel."

Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna all looked up at her and waited for her to continue. She indulged them.

"I knew this, that Merlin was the first person ever to time-travel, but I simply didn't put two and two together until I read this book. He grew up the eldest child of all the Founders, but he technically wasn't a part of them. When he grew to be of age, he went traveling and learned more and collected many things and became an inventor. Nobody knows for sure, but that must be how he made the first Time-Turners.

"He was middle-aged when he first went back in time. After that, he skipped many lifetimes and because of it, his body reacted differently to aging. He really was only in his sixties when he met the Muggle boy, Arthur, but he looked to be one hundred sixty. After he became famous for that, he knew it was time to make sure that Hogwarts was started—he'd been to the future, see, and knew this had to happen. As well, he must have known that the old wizard the Founders told him about must have been _him_—nobody knows how, really. Whatever the matter, he went back in time for the last time.

"It says it all, right here—" she continued, paging through her book until she found the right spot. "'_In his time, he often traveled far and wide, seeking the four to succeed him. It wasn't until the land had fallen into a lost and unbelieving state that he found them: one from the southern moors, one from the northern glens, one from the western valleys, and one from the eastern fens. With those promising four, he took them in and began to teach them all that he knew so that one day, they too would—'"_

"I get it now!" said Neville. "Merlin went back in time to when he knew the Founders would be of age, then when he went looking for wizards and witches to teach, he knew exactly who he had to find!"

"Precisely! I bet he knew basically where to find them, because he remembered from their stories to him when he was younger where they were born. According to the riddle and the book, he found Godric Gryffindor first, in the southern moors of the West Country. Ravenclaw was next, from the northern glens of Scotland; then Helga Hufflepuff from Wales, as we already know; and then of course, Slytherin from somewhere in the east of England."

"Figures we'd have to have Slytherin be from our homeland," Ron muttered.

The others shushed him.

"We all know what happened next—he taught them for a few years until they were of age, then he sent them off on a quest to test themselves. Of course, knowing Merlin, he could have sent them through time, or to another country, or to another world entirely. Nobody knows. But _that's_ when it happened."

"What happened?" said Luna, entranced.

"As the story goes, a witch came to him with a secret—a very grave secret. She was in danger because of the information she possessed. This secret that she carried was wanted, for evil forces were coming to take it. She said it would be greatly desired for many centuries to come, and he had to protect it _at all costs."_

"Well, what was it?" said Harry.

"The book didn't say," said Hermione, disappointed. "But Merlin took this secret and bound the great magic it possessed so it wouldn't be found. He guarded it with his life, but his life was almost over, for when the Founders came back, they had the spouses, and of course they had Emrys—his younger self."

"Ohhh," said Harry, understanding. The others though—who hadn't gone time-traveling as Harry and Hermione had—were still in the dark.

Hermione enlightened them.

"Now something you must realize," she continued, "Is that with time-travel, there can _never _be more than one version of you for more than a few hours at a time. When I used the Time-Turner all third year, I could only go back a few hours, and there couldn't be more than two of me. If I had gone back again and again to a certain time so there would be numerous versions of myself...I simply wouldn't exist today."

They blinked up at her.

"Wait, you went back in _time _in third ye—"

"So in the past. You need to catch up, Neville," said Ron.

"You remember what it was like, Harry," Hermione said. "We had to make sure we couldn't see ourselves, and we had to let time catch up with us. That's another rule—you can _never _go forward in time, as it isn't a set place. Things are changing all the time—the future is in a constant state of flux."

"But you said that Merlin went forward in time," said a voice behind them all.

It was just Meghan Freeman however. She was hovering beside some bookcases. She grew a bit shy at all the attention, but continued. "Before, remember? Then just now you said you can't. Well, it can't be both."

"You can hear us?" Hermione asked, puzzled. _What happened to my silencing charm..._

"Meghan Freeman, right?" said Hermione, then continued when the girl nodded. "You see, Merlin was the only known wizard to ever go forward in time. He did not know until much later how wrong it was—it was doing things to his body that wouldn't have been done if he simply went backwards in time, and then let the present catch up with him. It was because of this that he began to age rather quickly. Afterwards, of course, he destroyed all evidence and instruments he probably used to go forwards in time. To this day, there have been several inventors trying to recapture what he discovered back then, but the none of them have succeeded. Our own Ministry of Magic has put a ban on it since then, as it is far too dangerous. You're very astute, Meghan, for noticing that. Would you like to join us too?"

Ron opened his mouth to object, but Ginny kicked him. Neville at once got up to pull a chair out for Meghan and she sat down, pleased. Neville reddened. Hermione took note of the exchange.

"It was seeing his younger self that Merlin knew he didn't have much time. He had just a few more tasks to do, and they had to be done quickly, or either his older self or younger self was going to die," said Hermione. "He needed a successor to guard this great magic that had been given to him. Obviously, he couldn't make Emrys, his younger self, his successor, because that had never happened before, in the past. So he gave this great secret to the four Founders to guard with their lives. He charged them to protect this secret until death, and after that to appoint new guardians to keep guard over the secret from their own descendants.

"To help guard this grand magic, he crafted for them weapons. This is how the sword, the cup, the diadem, and the locket came about. Within each weapon, he placed a complex enchantment and curse. He gave the four Founders these four magical objects to use and pass down their lines to help fight and draw off all adversaries searching for the great magic. The Founders, likewise, all took an oath that they and all their descendants would protect and guard the secret—of which the most terrible of all curses should befall them if they tried to use this magic for themselves—"

Hermione stopped. An eerie feeling grew in her chest, and her heart quickened.

_Am I forgetting something?_

"Is there more to the story?" said Neville.

_It's probably nothing. Just ignore it._

"Erm...yes..." Hermione answered, drawing back to the present. "It was shortly after this that Merlin went back to the place where he bound the magic up. He died there—his tomb is said to be there still. And the secret was placed somewhere here at Hogwarts. The Founders, who became the guardians of this secret, began their school of magic and proceeded to build on to the castle. But they guarded the secret as promised, even though they hadn't been told what made this secret so terrible. It doesn't particularly say, but I believe that this secret, because it held a great magic, put a lot of itself into the castle, making it very strong and powerful. This would explain why Voldemort is so intent on capturing it.

"Anyway, the story fast-forwards a couple of decades. There had been a rift growing between Slytherin and the other three for quite some time. Mostly, it was between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and it had a lot to do with this secret. Muggles were attacking witches and wizards everywhere, see, and Slytherin didn't know why they had to keep guarding the secret and why they couldn't unleash the magic onto the Muggles. He wanted it for himself, he wanted to know what all the secrecy was, and he decided to do everything in his power to find out. This eventually lead to the Hogwarts Battle."

Hermione's eyes were gleaming in the light from excitement. She got up and started pacing. She had finally discovered how it all began, through use of this book.

"To make a long story short, while the battle was taking place, Slytherin snuck into the castle and stole the secret from its protected spot. He acted out on his own ambition and greediness. The only place the magic could be unbound was where it was bound in the first place—where Merlin's tomb was. Again, we don't know where Slytherin went to, just that it was somewhere close by because he reached it that night; they didn't have brooms or Apparition then. Somehow, he found out how to unbind the magic, and the secret was unleashed. Because of this, Merlin was awoken in his tomb."

"What?"

"How?"

"I thought you couldn't wake up the dead—"

"You can't," she said, quelling their outburst. "Personally, I think this just means that his ghost had been haunting there all along. Or maybe he was turned into an Inferius. Whatever the matter, because of the curse on the locket, Slytherin was punished and his seed was cursed to be overpowered by their ambitions and greed."

"Well, that explains a lot!" Ron exclaimed. "No wonder the Slytherins're all bastards! It's in their blood!"

Someone muttered vengefully.

"Yes, that's all very well. Again, Merlin bound the magic and the secret and sent it back to the other Founders. The faithful three received it, Slytherin died, and they gave Slytherin's weapon to one of his sons to guard it, as it _had_ to be given down his line, no matter what he did. I think the good son, Alexander, got it next.

"And so, the years passed. The gifts went down the line and the secret was kept guarded. But over the years each generation forgot more and more. The gifts were traded, stolen, sold, and the guardians lost the special magic they were given to protect that powerful secret. Because the gifts were lost over time, the knowledge of the heirs and their magic was also lost. The secret and the magic within was bound and could not be regained."

Hermione took a breath, and smiled, finished with her tale. "And to this day, nobody knows where Merlin's tomb is."

"Wow," said Ron.

"Some story," said Harry. "Are there any other books on this? On where Merlin's tomb might be?"

"There are many theories. But they're only that—theories. Imagine finding it, though! That tomb must have loads of magic in it—maybe Merlin took some special things with him to the grave—books and instruments—!" Hermione was excited.

"Bet it's in England somewhere," said Ron. "The stories about Merlin are always in England."

"No, Wales," corrected Ginny. "English historians stole Welsh history and made it our own. So _I _bet it's in Wales."

"It could be somewhere foreign. Like America, or Germany, or somewhere," Neville threw in.

"It can't be any of those!" said Meghan Freeman haughtily. "Granger said it didn't take him long to get there! That means it must be somewhere within Hogwarts, or the Forbidden Forest, or Hogsmeade!"

"Or the cemetery!" Neville breathed. "Remember where Professor Jones took the sixth-years? That cemetery! I bet he's in there somewhere!"

"Can't be…" Harry mused. "We didn't see any headstones with his name on them. Plus everyone would know if he was there."

"So...assuming Hermione's story is true, then it matches up with the Sorting Hat's riddle quite well," said Ginny, thinking. "He gave them the gifts before he died...but it wasn't just because he liked them. It was because he was charging them with a task."

"A task!" Harry exclaimed.

They all looked at him.

He turned pink at his mimicry, then explained about seeing Dobby in the kitchens during one of Ron and Hermione's quarrels, and what Dobby had then told him to do.

"And I'm still lost. I still don't get what any of this has to do with _us_," said Ron. "Even Dobby told us that the Sorting Hat had given Harry a 'mission' to find them."

"This has _everything_ to do with us!" said Hermione earnestly. "Look around you! At this table alone, we have four Gryffindors, a Gryffindor that's as good as any Hufflepuff, a Ravenclaw, and a Slytherin! That's exactly what the Sorting Hat told us at the start of this year's term— '_I've told you once, and now you must take heed on my advice...if you don't join together, you must pay a greater price'! _Don't you see? If we don't do something about the rift in Hogwarts, there's going to be a terrible battle here. And instead of it being a united Hogwarts against Voldemort's followers, then half of the Hogwarts students are going to go join them and we wouldn't stand a chance! It's important that we learn this stuff so this doesn't happen—it's important that everyone does!"

There was an unbroken silence as they digested her words.

"She's right," said Harry. "We need to learn everything we can about this stuff. If it will stop Voldemort...it's worth it. It all is."

"Learn...what?" said Neville.

"About the gifts," said Hermione. "And their magic. They're at the heart of everything. If you truly want me to tell you, then I will. But if not..."

None of them moved. She heard footsteps down the next aisle, but assumed it was Madam Pince. The candlelight flickered on Hermione's face as she gave them a rather mysterious smile.

"All right, then. You all remember what the Sorting Hat's riddle at the start of term was about, don't you? In a nutshell, it told us that each of the Founders were married, that an old wizard taught the Founders and started Hogwarts, then disappeared, but not before leaving them gifts—he gave Gryffindor a sword, Hufflepuff a goblet, Slytherin a locket, and Ravenclaw a diadem. Then when _you _went back later, Harry, the Hat told you that the wizard was Merlin. It also said that it mentioned the spouses for a purpose that we need to figure out, and the heirs of the Founders are alive today, as are the Gifts.

"Now, we know that Dumbledore has the sword, which we think means he's the Heir of Gryffindor. We know that there is a possibility for Luna to be an heir, considering…" she trailed off.

Eyes wide, they all nodded (including Luna) showing that they'd all thought it since the lightning strike.

"And of course, since Professor Jones' real name is Hestia Jones _Hesperus, _it is very possible that she could be an heir too and was named after Gryffindor's wife!" she continued. "I've researched the other Gifts, and I couldn't find anything about a locket or diadem...but in Professor Jones' class the other day, she mentioned a cup. Do you remember? She said it belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, and that's the reason Tom Riddle wanted it. Probably wants to use it to get Hogwarts back from Dumbledore. Now, Hepzibah Smith was the last owner of the cup, and when Riddle killed her, he went to get the cup, but it was gone—"

"And that's when Zacharias Smith started boasting about how she entrusted it to _his_ family because they were her favorites, and all that rot," said Ron bitterly. "Nasty bloke couldn't get a bigger head."

"Right," said Hermione. She twiddled with her necklace, thinking. "So that makes the Smiths known descendants of Helga Hufflepuff. And in that memory of Dumbledore's that you saw, Harry, probably means Lupin was giving it back to the Smiths. And of course Ron and I saw it—"

She stopped.

Ron was gesturing at her to shut up.

And she realized all too late that she'd spilled the beans.

"You saw it?" said Neville, white-faced.

"In a picture. Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. We saw it in a picture in a book I found. So we know what it looks like," she hastily covered up.

The others appeared satisfied by that, although Neville still looked distraught.

"Anyway, so the Smiths probably have the cup now. That leaves two of the Gifts and two of the Heirs accounted for. Now, as for the locket, I haven't heard anything about it, but—"

"What about that necklace? You know...the cursed one…"

Hermione bit her lip.

"It...could have been…" said Harry slowly. "Though that wasn't exactly a locket."

"Definitely wouldn't want to touch that thing," Ron agreed.

They all shivered.

"Wait, locket?" Ginny furrowed her brow. "Locket...locket, locket..."

"Sounds like 'lock it', now," said Ron.

"That's it!" Ginny exclaimed, standing up. "I know of a locket! In fact, we all do! Well, maybe not Neville, Luna, and Freeman. But don't you other three remember? We were at Grimmauld Place, and we were cleaning out the drawing room. There were doxies, a music box that made us all sleepy, and a—"

"_Locket!"_ said Hermione, Harry, and Ron at once.

_That's where I remember the locket from, _Hermione mused. _I knew it was familiar...how could I forget..._

"Exactly! Remember? It was silver, it was rather big and heavy, had the thick chain of a pocket-watch...and it had the letter 'S' on it. A snake in the form of an 'S'. I remember that part because we couldn't open it and I looked at the snake and thought maybe you had to speak Parseltongue for it to open, but that's when the music box was brought out and I forgot to ask Harry to say something snake-ish for us..." said Ginny.

"Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth," said Luna unexpectedly. "He was a Snortbottom-tamer as well, you know, which is why his mother liked him so much. But I do think him being a Parselmouth had something to do with the locket Merlin gave him. And his House symbol being a snake."

Harry blinked. "I think you're right, Luna."

Hermione, meanwhile, was looking through her book, and not paying attention. "Ah, I've got it! Here—"

She opened to a page with illustrations and showed them. The sword looked just like the one in Dumbledore's office, the locket looked just as Ginny described it, the cup looked exactly as Hermione saw it, but the drawing of the diadem looked only vaguely familiar to Hermione.

"So Dumbledore has the sword, the Smith family has the goblet, and the locket is still probably at Grimmauld Place!" Hermione summarized. "And they all have a special magic placed on them."

"Wait, what?" Harry said. "When I held Gryffindor's sword to defeat the basilisk in second year, it didn't do any magic for me."

"It wouldn't," she said. She sat up, beaming once more. "There's this special spell complex that was put on all the weapons, like I said. That's what makes them so special—no one has seen their like since. They only work when they are with the heirs they were given to. They don't work for anyone else. As well, they give the wielder a power separate than what they possess." She lowered her voice. "The thing about the gifts is that they all have what they call the Triquetra Effect."

Hermione looked around at them all—they were entranced by her story, and the dark library was lit only where they sat. She heard a noise in the next row of bookcases, but paid it no mind.

The silence after her words was broken by Ron. "The Tri-_what_-now Effect?"

"The Triquetra Effect. It's like..." Hermione paused, searching for a way to explain it to them. "All right, do any of you know how wizards are different than Muggles?"

"Simple," said Harry, "Magic."

"Yes...but there's something else. See, wizards have three major things that make them who they are—their souls, their magic, and their bodies...or 'might' as this book calls them. Muggles have the bodies and the souls, but instead of magic, they have something else. The rule applies for Muggles and wizardkind both—a person cannot exist with only two of these things. They would try to function for a little while, but ultimately, they would die. Haven't you ever wondered why all the people who get a dementor's kiss die sometime within a year afterward? It's because their bodies and magic can't function without the soul. The same applies for the other two—if our bodies stop working, our souls and our magic are separated. If our magic stops working, our bodies and spirits stop functioning. It's really rather scary."

"No shite!" said Ron, aghast.

"Don't swear," Hermione said automatically.

"Wait, what about Squibs?" Neville asked. "And Muggleborns?"

"Well, contrary to popular belief, Squibs do have magic—it's just latent and can't be tapped into. And there's this gene that Muggles have that manifests in their lines every once in a while, so that one or more of their children—like the Creevey boys—are born with magic instead.

"But that is what the Triquetra Effect is: three things that rely on each other in order to work. And according to this book, something rather akin to it was placed on the gifts. They work three different ways: one part of its magic goes to the rightful heir and bearer; one part goes to the gift for its own use; and the third part can only be accessed when the heir and the Gift are together and combine their magic."

"Still lost, here," said Neville.

Ginny turned to him. "I think she means to say that each gift has its own body, soul, and magic, only all three of these are a form of magic. They can't function without the other, which means that if there is a gift that doesn't have an heir it belongs to, it simply wouldn't be magical at all."

"Close," said Hermione. "It would still have magic, it would just be bound and couldn't manifest itself in a true form. Let me think of an example...

"All right, let's say the Lovegoods are the most direct descendants of...Ravenclaw. That makes Luna the Ravenclaw Heir. But there can be more than one heir at a time, see. Her mother or father would be an heir, maybe any cousins or siblings she's got, any relatives, any distant relatives, etc. But the none of them have any _special_ magic. Neither do they know that they could, as the diadem is somewhere hidden and they've never seen it before."

"So...if Luna found the diadem, then it would make her the true heir, whereas if her father found it, then he would be it?" said Harry.

"Exactly! Whoever does become joined with the diadem, or gift, would be called the Honorary Heir. I suppose it really depends on which of them found the diadem first, but many people think otherwise. In my book, it says that some people believe that the diadem chooses the heir—quite like how the wand chooses the witch or wizard. That maybe it..._calls_ them to it and makes them pick it up. Which means that no matter how pure your line is, someone who is barely a descendant might be 'picked' over someone who is descended directly through the ones this gift has picked before. Nobody really knows, see.

"But there is something that everyone agrees on—there can only be one Honorary Heir at a time. The diadem could not share its magic with Luna and her father at the same time. If they were both to become the Honorary Heirs, it would have to be one _after_ the other. Then her father would need to unleash its magic first, and then if he were ever to become separated with it, their magic together wouldn't work any more," said Hermione. "Thus, Luna would be free to find the gift and unbind its magic once more at a later time. Do you understand?"

"Wait..." said Ron. "You're saying that Mr. Lovegood would be the...Honorary Heir...and then all of a sudden, not be anymore? Does that mean when they were separated that he just stopped touching it, and then _poof_? Wait, would he still have the magic the diadem gave him?"

"I don't think he has to be touching it _all _the time to still be the Honorary Heir," answered Hermione. "And as to your latter question: Yes. He would still have the magic. And the diadem would still have its own separate magic. But as it is still an inanimate object, it couldn't separately use its magic unless a person controlled it. You see, it...it's like a wand."

"A wand?" said Meghan Freeman.

"Yes. Wands have magic in them, but they can't say spells, or perform magic by themselves. They need someone to use them, as they are _only _instruments. But a witch or wizard who owns the wand can still perform magic _without _the wand. Before I came to Hogwarts, I did a number of magical feats even though I did not own a wand—this is called untamed magic." Hermione smiled, remembering. "In fact, once, I was in my father's library and wanted to read several books on the top shelf, but couldn't reach them. The next thing I knew, I had flown into the air, and my father found me an hour later settled quite comfortably on the top shelf, reading the books.

"But, erm, anyway...the same theory applies to the former Honorary Heirs. They still have that special magic inside of them—it wasn't taken away simply because they no longer had command over the gift. They just can't use the gift—or anything at all, as wands wouldn't do wild magic any good—to channel it. So if Mr. Lovegood was given pyrokinesis, say, then even after the diadem found another Honorary Heir, he would still be able to use that power. He might not be very good at it—setting the house on fire simply because he's angry, and whatnot—"

She stopped again. Her audience looked rather clueless, and she gave an exasperated sigh, struggling to help them understand.

"You lot remember our lesson on untamed magic, don't you?" she said. "It requires no wand or incantation to come out, like regular magic—wild and untamed magic is controlled purely by our emotions. Like nonverbal spells, only much wilder. It's incredibly difficult to harness and use, which is why Mr. Lovegood may never be able to use this magic. So...does that make sense?"

They nodded.

"All right, back to the example. One day after Mr. Lovegood accidentally loses the diadem, Luna happens across it. For decades it has just been in her attic, appearing to have no magic at all. She touches it, or maybe it senses her magic, or perhaps she has to eat it, or slip it on her foot, or prick her finger on it like those Muggle fairytales, _we don't know_. Whatever she does, the magic on the diadem becomes activated."

"So...what, it starts glowing in the dark or something?" said Ron.

"I suppose it might. I really don't know. Anyway, the magic in the diadem becomes unbound. It splits itself into three ways—to her, to itself, and to both of them. The next day, she discovers that this new magic she now has manifests as a...a...healing ability, say—"

Meghan Freeman dropped a book which clattered to the floor. The others shushed her.

"—she can now heal a wound simply by touching it. That is her magic. The day after that, she discovers that this diadem can do something by itself. It can—"

"—glow in the dark—"

"—it can glow in the dark. That is the diadem's magic. And the third only happens when she is using the diadem for something or another—let's say she's wearing it the next week and she uses her own magic, and then it suddenly starts talking. That would be the third magic which can only take form when they are together. The diadem couldn't talk if it was alone in her room, the diadem couldn't glow in the dark if she decided to bind the magic up again, and she couldn't use it to heal anyone after the diadem was given to another heir. Remember, I said before that she would have to find a way to channel her own magic. Although...seeing as how it _is _healing people, which can be rather dangerous, she might want to just leave it alone, or she might kill someone by accident."

It did not escape Hermione's notice how Meghan Freeman had stopped fidgeting, stopped moving, and stopped breathing. All of a sudden, she looked like a mooncalf caught in wandlight. No one else seemed to be concerned, however.

"So does this mean Gryffindor and them could all heal people?" Ron inquired.

"No...because the magic settles in different people, even if they're in the same line, so it manifests in different _forms_. So Rowena Ravenclaw's magic could have turned her into a Legilimens, as she was known for that. But then when she passed away and one of her daughters was made the Honorary Heir, that witch might have been given power over water, say. It's just different. So, you see, it's three things completely dependent upon each other in order to work," Hermione finished. "And that's the Triquetra Effect—"

Someone interrupted her, scathingly.

"And we all know that Pothead, Weasel, and the Mudblood are completely dependent on each other. They have to do everything together—Potter can't shine his own boots without the Mudblood having to lick them and Weasleby wiping the slime off them for him. And so they have formed their own Triquetra Effect!"

Draco Malfoy stepped out of the shadows. Hermione turned pink.

"You bloody arse, stop calling her that!" Ron snapped.

"How long've you been standing there?" said Harry, alarmed.

Hermione knew why. _If Voldemort found out about this stuff..._

"Long enough," Draco said, eyes glinting. "I've simply come to give Freeman a message. Snape wants you. In the hospital wing."

"All right," Meghan Freeman said. "Tell him I'm coming. I want to finish this first."

He rolled his eyes. "I know you're fond of me, Freeman, but I'm not your bloody owl. Go tell him yourself. And what _are _you doing with these tossers, anyhow? I should give you detention just for associating with them."

Malfoy came closer to them and leaned on the back of Hermione's chair, peering over her shoulder and reading the books she had spread before her. She could feel his breath on her neck.

"You can leave now, Malfoy," said Hermione, irritated. "We're having a private discussion that doesn't concern you."

"I'm not looking to be concerned," said Draco snidely. "I was just wondering what's so important that would make four Gryffindors, one Ravenclaw, one Hufflepuff, and one Slytherin all congregate at _one _table."

"There are no Hufflepuffs," said Hermione at once.

"Oh—so sorry—Longbottom's pathetic enough, I mistook him for one—now if you'll excuse me, I have a castle to patrol," he said arrogantly, then walked away.

Meghan Freeman narrowed her eyes at the retreating back, pulled out her wand, and sent a hex after him.

The seven of them all burst into laughter as a long red streak appeared on the seat of his robes. Malfoy, however, felt nothing and continued walking.

"That was great," said Ron to Meghan, warming up to her. "But what made you do it? He's in your House."

"That still doesn't mean he's any less of an arse," she said haughtily. "Besides, I'm a Slytherin. We hex whomever we please. Especially when someone makes fun of nice boys who act like perfect gentlemen and pull chairs out for ladies. Now, if you'll excuse _me,_ I have a patient."

She marched away, nose in the air. Hermione grinned, watching her go. Her smile broadened when she saw Neville was doing the same, a small smile stretching on his own pink face.

"So about that story of yours, Hermione," said Ron, throwing his arm around her shoulder as they all got up to leave. "D'you reckon the Smiths really are the heirs of Hufflepuff, or just conniving thieves..."

They chortled, following Ron out of the library.

During dinner that night, everything Hermione had told them in the library was all they could talk about. They discussed what the Founders' powers could have been—("Slytherin's was definitely him being the biggest git ever," muttered Ron)—and who the heirs could be today.

In light of it all, the Sorting Hat's riddle kept circling around in Hermione's head.

"_The first gift found must stolen be,_

_The second shall inherit,_

_With borrowed hand the third is claimed,_

_The last—with given merit."_

It was talking about the weapons Merlin gave to the Founders to protect the secret, she knew that now.

But what did it mean? Where were these gifts? They knew about the Gryffindor Sword in Professor Dumbledore's office. They knew about the Hufflepuff Chalice in Helga's tomb in the kitchens. Was Slytherin's locket and Ravenclaw's diadem in Hogwarts as well? Did they have tombs in Hogwarts too?

And the bottom line: Were they supposed to do something about it?

There were far too many unanswered questions and Hermione felt like they were running out of time.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Merlin, are you done reading yet? Such a slow reader, you are. Can't complain though, this chapter was a BEAST. Over 8700 words, it is by far my longest. But the information was very much in wanting, and the added scenes at the top of this chapter that I added in last night really did make up for what it was already lacking, I think.**

**Let me know what you think! Next chapter: **

**The Spy in the Tower.**

**Dun, dun, DUN...**


	30. The Spy in the Tower

**THE SPY IN THE TOWER**

It was on a Monday that the seven of them all sat for breakfast at the Gryffindor table, still whispering furiously about the Founders. Only this time, they were more concerned about the tombs, and where they could be found.

They were seated on a table near the end by the double doors, so were separated from most everyone else on the Gryffindor table...who kept stealing funny glances at them. They did have a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin sitting with them, anywho.

Ron sat beside Hermione, thoroughly entranced in Ginny's and Harry's theory that Hufflepuff's tomb was somewhere below the Greenhouses. As of this morning, he and Hermione hadn't had the chance to fill Harry in on the tomb they found in the kitchens. Really, all Ron had to do was mention the idea of the Founders all being buried within Hogwarts and their gifts (for the most part) being buried with them, and the theories went wild.

He noticed Lavender glancing over at him and Hermione several times forlornly, and Ron knew he should go over to her. But he was just so..._happy..._sitting with his sister and best friends. He didn't want to leave them to go over to where Lav was sitting.

It didn't occur to him to invite her over to where he was sitting.

"Ron, we really should tell them," Hermione whispered to him, face close to his, with a grin. "They'll go mad, trying to figure it out themselves!"

Ron chuckled and leaned in to whisper in her ear, his hand cupped around it. "That's what makes it so fun, seeing them go mad with all the wrong theories. Is this how you feel all the time, watching Harry and me stumble around for answers during homework? It's evil, is what it is."

Hermione laughed, the sound filling the air around them, and Ron grinned as he watched her.

They had an audience, however.

"What're you talking about?" asked Harry, suspicious.

"Nothing," they both said, presenting an innocent front.

"Oh, please, like we believe you," said Ginny. "You know something, Ron."

"Yes, they both have red cheeks," Luna noted. "Like they are keeping a secret. Or like they are being infested with blumdingers...which is highly probable."

She scooted away from them, just in case.

"All right, we'll tell you," said Ron, after glancing at Hermione. "But you have to swear to keep it a secret."

He cast a silencing charm around them, and they all scooted in closer to hear.

In hushed tones, Ron described what happened to him and Hermione in the kitchens the other night. They were dumbfounded when he got to the part about Hufflepuff's tomb, and even moreso when he finished the tale describing Hufflepuff's cup on the shelf.

"You're joking!" said Ginny, hands over her mouth. "In the _kitchens?"_

"Oy, why didn't you tell me sooner?" Harry was affronted. "We're best friends!"

Ron shrugged and smirked. "How about next time, you choose _not _to swallow the damn poison and you can come tag-along with us?"

"But in the _kitchens _though?" Ginny said again.

"Well, that was Helga's favorite place to be. Her sanctuary, if you will. It makes sense for her to choose that sacred spot to be her final resting place!" Meghan Freeman said, excited. "Just think, all the other Founders' tombs could be at Hogwarts too!"

"Wow, where d'you think Gryffindor's could be?" said Harry, eyes lit up.

The theorizing continued.

And yet Ron noticed that through the entire conversation, a white-faced Neville didn't say anything, but simply stared so piercingly into his scrambled eggs that Ron thought he was trying to perform Legilimency on them.

By the time they split off for their lessons, it was decided that Slytherin's was in the Chamber of Secrets (of course), Ravenclaw's was...probably in a tower? They really didn't know much about her, so it was hard to guess. Ideas thrown about for her tomb's location were the Room of Requirement, the Astronomy Tower, the Ravenclaw Tower, the library, and possibly the hospital wing. And Gryffindor's tomb was probably somewhere near the armory or Gryffindor tower.

"Now, if the Marauders' Map is any indication," whispered Harry as they walked out of the Great Hall, "then I think we can safely bet that if we were to take it with us and just walk the entire length of the castle, in every room and corridor, we'd be able to find the tombs in no time! Especially if we take it in shifts, so none of us are walking around the whole place."

"I can do the corridors when Ron and I patrol," Hermione volunteered. "And the library, since I know every nook and cranny in it."

Ron laughed and squeezed her hand. "Trust Hermione to volunteer spending _more _time in the library."

"I can do Ravenclaw Tower," said Luna. "And the other tower near there too. I do have quite a lot of time on my hands, and nobody suspects me of being up to no good."

"I can do the Slytherin common room and the dungeons," Meghan said. "The Hospital Wing too, since I'm there all the time."

Neville grinned at her. She smiled shyly back at him.

One by one, they all offered different parts of the gigantic castle, and Ron was beginning to see just how long this would take.

"...I doubt any of us would need to do the Dark Tower, as there isn't anywhere there to even house a secret room," Harry finished.

They all shivered. _Nobody _like being in the Dark Tower. Hardly anyone at all went in there.

"How about we just focus on the places we know the Founders frequented often for now," Ron suggested. "As Hermione and I have to patrol tomorrow night, I volunteer we have the Map first. We can let you know on Wednesday which corridors and rooms we were able to get to. Then we can switch off so a different person does it every day after classes."

They all agreed, and split off on their own for their first classes of the day.

And still, the Auror Guards followed them.

* * *

The blue fumes exhumed from the cauldron swirled lazily in the air.

Hermione watched them, bemused, as she stirred. Three turns clockwise, one turn counter. Three turns clockwise, one turn counter.

Classes had just finished for the day, and while her friends were off doing their Quidditch training, Hermione was off doing more important work.

She and Professor Snape were both in the Potion Master's office with Hestia Jones and Remus Lupin, who were seated opposite them, pouring over old scrolls and tomes. In order to beat the werewolves at their own game, they had started gathering more frequently to come up with the antidote needed to counteract the Wolflord Potion's properties.

"Is it time to add the wolfsbane yet, sir?" she asked Professor Snape.

Snape appeared to be on his best behavior in front of the other professors. Which...of course, for Snape...simply meant he was only slightly less mean than normally.

He swept around her, cloak billowing in the small space. "Aconite is the more precise term. In precisely three minutes," the Professor said tersely. "And I would remind you that only _I_ am allowed to handle the poison."

Hermione nodded and went back to stirring. "Of course, Professor."

Three turns clockwise, one turn counter. Three turns clockwise, one turn counter.

"Merlin, Severus, you're going to take that girl's arm off. She's been stirring for almost an hour. I know you know the spell to make the stick stir itself. Just do it so Hermione can come help us with this research. From what I hear, she's bloody good at it," said Hestia Jones, appraising her.

Hermione bit back a smile as Professor Snape scowled and obliged her with the spell. She let go of the stick, grateful. The Wolfsbane was a monster of a potion to make. This was already their eleventh batch in the past few weeks they'd made. It had to be made perfectly each time in order for the miniscule change they substituted to turn it into the antidote for the Wolflord Potion. So far they had tried all the obvious measures, and the not-so-obvious ones, and still nothing.

_Merlin abroad, I hope this works…_

She pulled a jar of flobberworm juice off the shelf for Professor Snape and set it beside the wolfsbane on the table. The purple flowers and dark green leaves of the wolfsbane (which Snape insisted on only calling aconite) stared unassumingly back at her, as if vying for innocence. Its roots twitched about every which way, not unlike a newborn baby's legs jerking without thought or direction.

"This text doesn't make any sense," said Moony wearily. "It speaks of the disease agents, which we already know about, but it does not differentiate between the physical and the mental attributes imposed upon by the increased energy of the perigee."

And that, it seemed, was the height of the problem they faced with.

Moony set the book aside and rubbed his eyes with his hands. It was almost the full moon, Hermione calculated, looking at him. Saturday would make it six days away.

"That's because not enough research into the disease has been done. We will need to formulate our own simulation that can recreate the physical and mental aberrations, thus concluding how precisely the reagent hastens the adverse effect," Snape said with an unforgiving note in his tone. "If you had gotten more than an 'A' in your Potion Mastery N.E.W.T.'s, Remus, perhaps you would have understood far more about your condition that you settled for. I know that I would have, if it had happened to me."

It was a mark of how long Remus Lupin knew and had put up with Professor Snape that he merely blinked and turned the page in response.

Professor Snape finished with slicing the poisonous roots up and measured them carefully into an eighth of a teaspoon. He added it in. He and Hermione both stood back several feet as the potion bubbled and frothed in rage (or was it excitement?) at the poison being added in.

"Wait for it…" Professor Snape said quietly, as they all waited with captured breath while the caudron hissed and spat.

Seconds passed.

Then blue steam rose from the cauldron once more.

The disappointment was surmountable as they let out their collective breaths.

It didn't work.

Hestia Jones swore, then colored when she remembered a student was in the room. Moony slammed the cover of his book down and put his head in his hands once more. Snape simply watched the other two, but Hermione could tell from the few Potion sessions they'd had that this news hit him hardest.

Dejected, Hermione sat down in an empty chair, blinking furiously at the tears pricking her own eyes. They were so close..._so close..._and yet they were now back to square one. "I thought...I thought that the genetic component present in the blood and sputum might just morph the deterioration of brain function...instead of simply causing it," said Hermione woodenly.

"It was a sound theory...and a good idea to use the Wolfsbane Potion as a base, Miss Granger," said Severus Snape as he cleaned up the last of the ingredients. Hermione stood and helped him tidy up their workplace, hardly recognizing the compliment from her surly Potions Master. "But perhaps if we sleep on it, another answer will come," Professor Snape finished.

"We might not have that kind of time," said Moony quietly, disappointed. "Perhaps...if I go undercover and infiltrate Greyback's pack...that may cut the time considerably—"

"No!" snapped Professor Jones and Professor Snape together.

Hermione jumped.

"You know that mission is suicide, Remus!" Hestia Jones hissed. "They would kill you just as soon as look at you, let alone let you into their pack. And that's not even counting what the initiation ceremony entails."

"We will need to try again later, is all. More research, more infiltration of the Death Eaters, more forays into their thought process and finding out who is the mastermind behind this so-called 'Wolflord' theory," said Snape. He snapped the last cupboard closed with a wand-flick, and got back to his usual, imperturbable self. "Now if you three wouldn't mind, I would like my office back. You can see yourself out."

Hermione was the first to leave, although she wanted to talk to Hestia for a bit, she could tell that the two professors behind her were far too enveloped in their own conversation to make much note of her. So she stepped out of Snape's office and walked alone down the corridor.

She looked around instinctively for Dawlish, who had left her outside the Potions office with the professors mere hours ago. He wasn't anywhere to be found, however, and she shrugged it off. It was probably just the guard change, or maybe he was off using the loo or something.

Hermione left the Potions corridor and turned onto the empty Tapestry Corridor. In the solitude, she pulled out the Marauders' Map and searched it for Viktor. Today was going to be the day she would talk to him, she decided.

The both of them had been growing much farther apart recently. It used to be he wanted to make out with her every time he saw her, certainly several times a day. But it had been days since she last saw him or did anything with him, which wasn't like him. She wondered if he suspected that she wasn't as in love with him as he appeared to be with her.

Her heart broke, thinking of him being depressed because of her. Tears leaked onto the Map and she hastily wiped her eyes again.

There. She saw him on the Map, outside on the Viaduct bridge.

She hastened outside through the double doors, out into the courtyard, drawing her blue travelling cloak about her against the chill wind, in search of her boyfriend. Hoping to find him before he left for Hogsmeade, she quickened her footsteps.

It wasn't long before she found him in the middle of the architectural stone bridge, a lone dark figure amidst the swirling fog, staring down the chasm at the sharp rocks far below them. He looked...sad. Sad and depressed.

"Sickle for your thoughts," Hermione said quietly, sidling up to him.

He hardly glanced up, let alone responded.

Hermione's grip on the Marauders' Map in her cloak pocket was unusually tight. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in her effort to calm her nerves.

_Merlin, this is difficult._

_I can't break Viktor's heart. He is so good. He deserves more. _

_Here I am, telling Ginny to go after Harry, and I...I haven't been doing the same. Do I really love Viktor as much as I think I love Ron? _

_What should I do?_

_Should I break up with Viktor and tell Ron how I feel?_

_But I can't break up with Viktor..._

She almost chickened out again, but then she thought of Ron, in his blue sweater with his Prefect badge pinned to it, grinning ruefully...and that alone gave her courage.

"Viktor, I...I need to tell you something," she said quietly. "About us…"

He didn't say anything, so Hermione haltingly continued. "My reasons for going out with you were not entirely honest, and I'm truly sorry. I do feel very strongly for you...I always have...but at the time I had just learned that I couldn't have Ron, and that made my actions...less than admirable. I shouldn't have acted on anything then. You should know, I've loved this past month and getting to know you and spending more time with you, and I really wanted us to work and be together, but…"

Still he didn't look up.

"...erm...I've realized that I'm still in love with him. And it is not fair to you in the slightest for me to be feeling this way when we're together. Viktor...I...I don't think we should be...together...any more. You deserve better. I want you to have more than what I can give you," she finally stumbled out.

Tears spilled out and fell down her face. The chill wind jumped at this chance to bring her more pain, and she realized she forgot to put a warming charm on when coming outside. She shook, both from the cold and the horrifying realization that she was breaking Viktor's heart.

"Viktor?" she whispered. "Please say something."

She reached out to put a hand on his own that was clutching the stone railing tightly, knuckles white.

He jerked away from her.

"Viktor..."

Still staring down at the ravine below them, he finally spoke—

"I see you vith Veasley."

It was said without accusation, merely an observation, as if he'd said nothing more than "A storm is rolling in."

Hermione bit her lip, unsure of what to say.

"I know there is history between you and him, Her-mione. I know you cannot stop being his friend. But I also...do not like it," he stated glumly.

Hermione put a hand on his arm. "You're right, Viktor. I haven't been treating you fairly. I thought I was over my crush on Ron, but I'm realizing that I never have been over it. You must know that my relationship with Ron...it isn't romantic in any way. He doesn't _like_ me like that. We are always talking about other things, like the Sorting Hat's riddle at start-of-term, and—"

"That doesn't give you the right to go behind my back," he snapped. "I am in knowing of your feelings for Veasley. How do you think it makes me feel, knowing you are vith him every minute of every day? How do you think it makes me feel, vhen he can be vith you at all hours, and I cannot?"

Blinking back tears, Hermione could see the hurt in his eyes as he finally looked at her. He'd never acted this way with her before.

_I've hurt him deeply._

"I'm so sorry, Viktor. I shouldn't have been with him behind your back like that. I didn't think that would hurt your feelings like it did. I've been friends with him and Harry for so long that I didn't think that would change when you and I started seeing each other."

Viktor's eyes darkened, and he gazed out over the Scottish landscape once more, with the mist rolling in and out of the forested trees, the mountains standing tall and prominant, the horizon shrouded in the distance.

Yet all Hermione could see was him.

"I see the vay you look at him," Viktor said. "I hear the vords you speak to him. Your heart is not drawn to me at all, is it? Your heart...has never belonged to me. You only ever think of yourself and vhat you vant. Never do you think of others and how your choices affect them. Did you only start going out vith me to get back at Veasley? Do you alvays treat others so cruelly?"

Hot tears filled her vision.

_I'm a horrible person._

"You are right. Perhaps ve shouldn't be together anymore," he whispered, still not looking at her. "Perhaps ve never should have been together at all."

"Viktor, _please—"_ she pleaded.

Before she could finish saying the sentence that she didn't even know how to end, Viktor walked away from her. His cloak collar was upturned in the chill as he cut the brooding, daunting figure once more.

_I'm a horrible person._

Until the fog was the only thing left surrounding her.

_I'm a horrible person._

She was left alone once more in the middle of the bridge.

_I'm a horrible person._

She had just thoroughly shattered his heart. And it was all her fault.

_I deserve to be alone._

* * *

Ron stared broodily into the fire.

It was just about bedtime, and he didn't know where the others were. He came right up to shower and see Lavender. He hadn't seen the others since practice. Truthfully, he was scared. Not...that he didn't know where they were. The library was his guess. No...he was scared about the next attack happening. He didn't know when it was going to happen. He didn't know who it was going to happen to. But he knew it was coming.

And that was by far the worst. Knowing...and not being able to do a bloody thing about it.

"Ron?" murmured the girl under the crook of his arm.

"Yes, Lavender?"

"Why are you so serious all the time?" she asked him.

"I…"

Should he tell her? Perhaps...really, it had already affected her...what with the Death Eater attacking in the alley...and the Hogwarts Express attack as well, in a way…plus she already knew his family was in hiding. Well, except Fred and George, the daft gits, who refused to leave their new shop in Hogsmeade this close to its opening, so new security measures were put in place to better protect them there.

And so Ron sighed, and told her everything. Well...except for the Git Lord being after Hermione too. He figured that was her own tale to tell. And Harry and the prophecy, of course...and...well...he didn't mention much about the Founders and their gifts and tombs either...right, so...not quite everything. But some things.

Lavender gasped at all the appropriate moments, and when he was finished, her eyes were flush with tears.

"I can't...I just can't believe it!" she cried. "How much you've gone through...you poor, poor boy...how hard it must be for you. Ron, you're so brave, honestly. I can't imagine how worried you must be...how scared...oh, _Won-Won…_"

He hugged her tighter to him. Relieved beyond measure that he had her. Lavender's words warmed his heart in a way that nothing else could. It wasn't like he was flowing in the compliments every day. But she...she understood him. She _liked _him. She...believed in him. When nobody else did.

And he found he didn't really want to break up with her. He didn't want to not have her anymore. Not have her talk about how brave he was. Not talk about how scared for him she was. He needed that. He needed to feel loved. He needed to feel...needed.

Not that Hermione ever needed him. She always just acted exasperated with him. Like she was just putting up with him. Like how she would put up with…

A brother.

That word stung.

But the portrait hole opened up just then, and his thoughts were interrupted by the bushy-headed Gryffindor herself.

Hermione was with Ginny, Harry, and Neville, but while the boys were cracking up over something, Hermione...wasn't. She looked sad, and her face was puffy from crying. Ginny had already picked up on it, because she was shooting the boys furtive glances.

"I have to get ready for bed first, then I'll be up to work on that essay with you. Sound good?" Ginny said to Hermione.

Hermione nodded, and stared over at Ron some more. He caught her eyes and tried to figure out what was wrong...why she was looking at him like that...why he couldn't stop staring at her…

But then Hermione just disappeared up the girls' dormitory staircase, and Ron wasn't the only one staring up the staircase, watching her go. When he looked down, he saw Lavender was too...when she wasn't watching him.

"You know what? I'm going up to bed too. Good night, charming," Lavender said, standing up. Then she bent down and kissed him, long and soft, her manicured nails reaching around to tousle his hair and pull him in closer.

And when she finally let go, a minute later, Ron felt lightheaded and tipsy and he grinned at the emotions flooding him.

"Good night, pretty girl," he said, wistfully watching her go. The way her blonde curls bounced and she ascended the stairs...the way her body swayed...the twinkle in her eyes as she left him—

"Earth to Ronnie-kins."

Ginny stood in front of him, eyes narrowed. "Wishing you could follow her, are you?"

Ron began nodding, but stopped when he saw the dangerous glint in his sister's eye. "N...no…just nevermind…"

He dodged her swipe at him and ran up the stairs to their dorm, Harry and Neville chuckling after him and following.

They all got ready for bed, and Ron was just about to fall asleep to Seamus' raucous snoring when he suddenly heard a noise outside.

His eyes snapped open.

Creeping to the window, Ron peered out into the sleeting storm. Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the grounds. But after several minutes he couldn't find anything amiss so he went back to bed.

_Everything is fine. Just go to sleep. No more nightmares._

He downed the Dreamless Sleep Potion that Harry left out for him. It immediately calmed him, and he got settled in his bed, thinking of Lavender and how torn he was about whether he should break up with her or not.

He couldn't have been more confused.

* * *

Hermione lay in bed in her pajamas, not wanting to brush her windblown hair, not wanting to go to the bathroom and brush her teeth, not wanting to do anything but lay in bed and mope about breaking Viktor's heart.

She heard footsteps come up behind her.

"I cannot believe you, Hermione Jean Granger!"

_Did someone just middle-name me?_

Baffled, Hermione turned around and sat up. Lavender was glaring down at her, arms crossed against her chest. She grabbed Hermione's slipper off the floor and chucked it at her.

"What the..._Lavender…_"

"You are such a cow! How could you do that to me? I thought we were friends!" Lavender cried, incredibly distraught about something.

Hermione drew back, puzzled. "But we're on good terms now. I don't understand."

"I mean you're still in love with him, you half-wit! It is so obvious! _How could you do that to me?" _Lavender covered her face in her hands, breaking down in sobs.

"Lavender, I…I'm really sorry..."

The other girls in the room all glared at her, and Parvati went over to comfort her best friend. Lavender leaned into Parvati, obviously distraught.

"What are you trying to play?" said Parvati, rounding on Hermione. "You've been friends with him for six years! You could have had him any time you wanted."

"That's not true, Parvati, he was never 'mine' to have—"

"I don't bloody care! You've had years to tell him how you feel! How the hell can you justify going out with _Viktor Krum _of all people and still try to steal Lavender's boyfriend out from under her?" Parvati asked vehemently. "You're such a hypocrite!"

Hermione sat back in her seat, shocked.

"Ron could never be mine anyway," she said softly. "He's in love with Lavender."

"What I don't understand," Lavender spoke up again, red-eyed and voice thick, "Is how you can be in love with him and yet treat him the way you do."

"What...what do you mean?" said Hermione, afraid to hear the answer.

"I mean you are so incredibly _horrid! _Fighting with him the way you do. Arguing with him like he's scum beneath your boots, and he just sits back and takes it! You manipulate him constantly, especially with homework, and he doesn't want that. He needs...he needs...tenderness, and...and...kindness, and when I tell him how smart he is, and brave, he just becomes putty in my hands!" said Lavender passionately. "And yet when you guys were fighting, you hurt him so much! How could you do that to him? And with _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named _after him too! How could you do that to him when he was so vulnerable like that? How could you tear his heart out like that? He's better than that! He's better than _you!"_

Stunned, Hermione only felt the tears leave her eyes.

"I...I-I didn't mean to…"

"Just leave _my_ boyfriend alone," snapped Lavender. "I care about him too much to let you hurt him like that! I won't let you."

She climbed into bed then, and wrenched her hangings shut. Parvati, Sally-Anne, and Fay all glared at Hermione some more, muttering under their breaths as they extinguished their lights and climbed into bed.

Hermione was only vaguely aware of Ginny standing in the doorway, arms still clutched around her Transfiguration essay and books, looking at Hermione with pity and trepidation.

"How much of that did you hear?" Hermione whispered, staring at the carpet.

Creaking of bedsprings as Ginny sat on it, and answered in another whisper, "All of it."

Hermione started sobbing then, and books, quills, inkpots, and essays fell to the floor as freckled arms encircled her. She was hardly aware of the silencing charm Ginny put around her bed as she cried. Hardly aware of the hangings closing so they could have privacy. Hardly aware of how kind Ginny was being, stroking her hair as Hermione soaked her pillow. Hardly aware of how long they stayed like this until they both eventually fell asleep together.

All she knew was how hopelessly in love she was with Ginny's brother.

* * *

He walked out onto the grounds, cloak billowing around him.

It was dark all around him—not a star shone through the thick, heavy clouds that covered the night. There was a rumble in the distance and as he looked up he could see the bolt of lightning cutting through the sky with a shape not unlike the scar on bleeding Potter's forehead.

But it didn't matter—he had something else to tend to tonight…and it was one thing he could not fail in.

He focused to the right of the lightning bolt and saw his destination—a tower was illuminated against the black night, the lightning reflecting off the glass windows that spanned seven stories above the castle's main bulk.

He gripped the broom in his hand and mounted it.

The wind already made heavier by the approaching storm whistled in his ears as he flew upwards, throwing back his hood.

His Death Eater mask remained firmly in place.

He counted the windows as he breasted the tower, seeing flashes of four-poster beds as he flew by.

Finally he reached the top-most east-facing tower windows and slowed to a hover beside them. Pulling out his wand, he unlocked the windows and swung them open.

The first thing he thought after his feet hit the thickly carpeted floor was how quiet it was. He brought his broom in and closed the window just as the rain drummed louder outside. The clicking of the lock did not disturb the five sleepers, however, and their breathing continued on.

This sound—and the absence of another—brought a smirk to his lips. He had lived in boys' dorms often enough in his life to know that with the male sex there was always bound to be at least one snorer in the bunch, if not several.

However, he seemed to have gotten the placing of the doors correct on the outside for he was now unmistakably in one of the Gryffindor girls' dormitories.

He set his broom in the corner beside the window and gazed around the darkness, wand out and unlit. Five four-poster beds greeted him, all with matching wardrobes, desks, and vanity mirrors beside them.

He walked to the last two, then stopped, trying to decide which one to pick. His wand landed on the bed to his right and he approached it.

Drawing back the hangings, they revealed a teenaged girl.

She was curled up on her side, her knees drawn to her chest underneath the large eiderdown comforter she huddled in.

He did not need the next flash of lightning to tell him he had the wrong bed—the posture was all wrong, the face shape even moreso, and the crimped blonde hair splayed across the pillow was worse than the other two.

He knew who it was, of course, just as he vaguely knew all the girls in the room. Lavender Brown.

She stirred as the brief light flash fell onto her face. He let the curtains fall back hastily.

It would not do to search the wrong girl's belongings, he knew. What he was searching for was far more important than a diary full of schoolgirl crushes and fan-letters.

He slowly crossed to the other Gryffindor bed, taking in how neat and orderly everything was compared to the other girls' portions and, in particular, how many books covered the shelves surrounding the bed.

He knew without having to draw back the curtain that he was in the right place, yet draw it back, he did.

She was lying on her back with only a sheet loosely covering her frame. One arm dangled off the bed while the other was being used as a pillow, her copious amount of hair distinguishable as it surrounded her face in an unmistakable hue.

Hermione Granger.

Oddly though, there was another girl in the bed with her, with red hair and freckles and half-clutching some spare scrolls and books. Ginny Weasley.

Not five girls. Six.

They must have fallen asleep together while working on an assignment, he deduced. Still a Gryffindor, he knew that already...yet the redhead was not a sixth-year.

He hadn't counted on that.

He paused for several moments longer, staring at the brunette as he tried to figure her out. Brown tendrils fell down her cheeks, moving ever so slightly every time she breathed out. Even the white nightgown, although modest in an upright position, scooped down far lower than he was used to seeing in these Hogwarts girls.

He turned away. The hangings danced away from his grip and left a gap that hadn't been there before. He did this on purpose, however, so he could keep an eye on her as he began to do what he came for.

There were only the few writing tools and trinkets from home that sat atop the desk beside an unfinished essay. He picked up the latter and scanned it thoroughly, but it only contained the details of the seven uses of dragon blood and which potions it could be used in.

Putting the essay aside, he rifled through the drawers. Careful to make as little noise as possible, it took longer than he had anticipated. He kept a whether eye on the slumbering young woman through the curtain's gap, ears attuned to the breathing sounds in the room.

If any of the girls were to wake, he reasoned, he would know.

Thankfully, the Death Eater's mask on his face would hinder any of them from finding out who he really was.

* * *

Ginevra Molly Weasley was not quite awake when she heard the familiar creak of the window being unlatched. By the time she had woken enough to convince herself that the wind must have blown it open and she would need to get up and close it again, she remembered that the window had been locked.

She opened her eyes and silently fumed.

_Now which one of Hermione's room-mates could be stupid enough to let in the freezing air at this hour, I wonder? It could be Hermione, since she's always casting that warming charm around herself at night…but no one else's charms last all night like hers does so she can't have been stupid enough to open the window just because she was hot, and successfully freeze the rest of us…_

Ginny didn't normally sleep in the sixth-year girls' dormitory. But when she did, it was almost always because they were having a little party and talking about hair potions and handsome wizards. Plus, she desperately needed Hermione's help with her Transfiguration essay. So Ginny went ahead and invited herself along with them, and then comforted the crying girl and fell asleep before she cared enough to go downstairs to her own dorm.

_None of my roommates ever make me wake up freezing, though._

Ginny quickly ruled out Lavender as the likely culprit because she was always complaining about being cold. Parvati was actually quite possible because she said just a few hours before how much she loved to watch lightning, but the footfalls on the floor seemed far too heavy for the skinnier girl. Determined now that it must be either Sally-Anne Perks (a fellow redhead), or Fay Dunbar (a quiet mousy girl), Ginny got a good complaint ready and sat up.

It was through pure chance that she happened to look through the curtain gap before her hands could yank the hangings aside—and what she saw froze her in the action.

A tall man in a hooded cloak was now closing the window with a soft click and he was definitely _not _a sixteen-year-old Gryffindor girl.

The complaint died in Ginny's throat before it even had a chance to escape. She barely had time to pull back herself as he put his broom against the window and turned around.

It was a Death Eater.

Ginny's thoughts flew in tandem with the beating of her heart, and forced herself to remain calm. Her heart was telling her to scream as loud as she could to warn the other girls that there was a Death Eater in their dorm, while her fiery nature was itching to shoot a curse at him through the gap. It was her mind, however, that forced these first two instincts down and stated that she would be dead within ten seconds if she followed either of them.

_Figure out first what the enemy is after before you try to stop him, _said a voice which sounded eerily reminiscent of Defense training.

_That's it. Just pretend you're asleep._

She heard footsteps crossing the room. Hurriedly, she fell back onto the pillow, hair askew, Hermione beside her, eyes closed tightly before she let them relax and fall into a lax position that mirrored her even breathing. She had just drawn her legs up in her usual sleep position when she felt, rather than heard, Hermione's hangings open.

_I'm asleep. I'm asleep, I'm asleep, I'm asleep, I'm asleep, _she thought, heart beating loudly. There was a hitch in his breath and before she could stop herself, she moved.

_I'm asleep! _She thought furiously. _You're going to think I'm asleep and leave me alone and get the HELL out of our room!_

Through the tiniest squint she could see the figure beside Hermione's bed. Her heart, already beating wildly, was speeding up. Was he going to…

Ginny waited, growing antsy, but he wouldn't stop staring at her best friend. It would have been creepy in a stalker way, had it not been so frightening.

_Turn around. Turn around and go away. Don't do anything else, just leave. If all you came up here for was to look at us, then look. But please, please, don't do anything else..._

His back was turned. If only she could Stun him—she had the perfect shot. But her wand was on the nightstand, and to get it she'd need to sit up, draw back the hangings, reach over to grab it, then aim. She wanted to underestimate him and believe she could do it before he turned around, but she knew better than that.

After what seemed like forever, he moved. The hangings were loosed and he turned to Hermione's desk.

Ginny shut her eyes quickly, but she only heard the opening and closing of desk drawers.

_He's not looking. He's turned away from me and making noise. I could..._

Slowly, not breaking her even breaths, her arm inched across the sheet. Biting her lip, Ginny concentrated on not moving too fast or making any noise. The Death Eater finished searching through the desk and moved on to the dozens of books on Hermione's wall.

She held her breath. Her fingers reached the edge of the bed. It wasn't until they had reached the corner of the opening that she realized how quiet it was. She looked back at the figure and saw he was frozen, tense, wand in hand.

Berating herself for being so stupid, Ginny slowly let the breath she'd been holding out in a sigh. For good measure, she stretched out her legs, letting the bed creak. Then, feeling very self-conscious, she let out a sound crossing a mutter and a moan. She took a few deep breaths, then let them even out into a steady rhythm.

He seemed to have taken the ruse. His shoulders relaxed, and he sighed deeply. Still, he did not put his wand away. Once he was finished looking through the desk, she saw him start to go through Hermione's dozens of books.

Ginny was relieved beyond measure.

Back at the Burrow, she had feigning sleep to the art of perfection. She'd needed it for all the times her mother came in to check in on her, especially after the Department of Mysteries fiasco. But she couldn't really blame Mum for it...Ginny knew she and Ron weren't the only ones having nightmares about it. Mum and Dad needed the reminder their youngest two were safe and sound as often as she and her brother needed it.

And now she was in another dangerous situation yet again.

She furrowed her brow and concentration, breathing deeply and focusing on getting her wand off her nightstand without the Death Eater noticing.

* * *

He put the last book on the shelf with a scowl.

There was nothing in any of them.

He'd picked up every one, rifled through the pages for loose leaves or tucked notes, read every title—but they were all schoolbooks, textbooks, and defense books. He thought he'd found something in _Hogwarts: A History, _but it was just a folded parchment with scribbles about Merlin and Ancient Runes and a list of books, no doubt for class. He pocketed it anyway, but if he went to the Dark Lord with only a folded note when he was expecting something worth far more...

_Damn her! Where is she hiding the information? I saw her put it in a small, black tote, but it isn't anywhere..._

Once, he thought one of the girls was awake. He had heard one of six different rise and falls cease with his well-attuned ears—but the next second, the breath was let out, a roll-over and content moaning heard next, then controlled breathing once again. She was asleep.

He crossed to the wardrobe, though he knew he'd find nothing but clothes. Hanging skirts, with pleats and without, pressed blouses, crisp school robes, every day robes, girlish sweaters and nice trousers, four pairs of shoes, nightgowns and pajamas, underclothes—

He snarled, forgetting for a moment the importance of silence.

There was nothing under the bed, wardrobe, or desk, he had even checked behind each. Pulling out her underwear and braziers, he felt for some hidden latch or false bottom, finding neither in any of the drawers.

The chest at the foot of her bed actually showed some promise of anything important or secretive—too much promise in fact, for it was sealed shut and warded with protective spells.

He then worked for five minutes on the trunk alone, trying every spell he knew to open it, but to no avail.

He sighed irritably, casting one more non-verbal curse at the trunk. Walking back over to the side of the bed, he wrenched the hangings open and glared at the damn know-it-all, his hatred for her growing with every passing second, thinking hard.

The information he was searching for was in the trunk—he was sure of it. Why else would it be so heavily guarded? None of the spells worked around the wards which meant that no spell could open them. Coupled with that and the fact there was no lock to open the trunk, he was quite positive that only a password was designed to do the trick. However, he had no way to guess what it could be—something simple and easily guessed, like "Dumbledore's Army" or "The Boy Who Lived", or something much more complex, like a series of numbers, or a phrase in Ancient Runes...

Thunder rumbled. The girl in the bed before him stirred ever so slightly before settling once more into a deep sleep.

The fingers on his wand twitched, and he longed to use it on the infuriating Mudblood…make her scream and beg for mercy at his hand...her entire well-being solely left up to him...the power he could have over her...her body writhing uncontrollably...

But he couldn't.

The prerogative was to get in, get the information, then get out. But now...now that this had turned out as a failed mission, perhaps bringing her to his Master would be smarter than coming back empty-handed…

But he couldn't yet. After the failed attempt on Saturday, he had come up with a new plan that bypassed the insufferable Hogwarts wards, allowing for an abduction. And it wouldn't be ready for another week yet.

And then he knew what to do. The trunk was guarded against spells that could be made to open it, but to remove it entirely—

He shrunk the girl's trunk to the size of his hand, then picked it up and tucked it into his pocket. The solution was so simple he wondered why it took him this long. Satisfied, and very well pleased with himself, he took one last look at the Mudblood Queen before turning to leave.

It was then that lightning flashed again, and he saw something he hadn't noticed before.

There, mostly hidden by the bodice of the Mudblood's nightgown was a trace of something on her skin...but he couldn't quite make it out...

His hand reached towards her breastbone, where the V-shaped neckline of her nightgown was resting. He paused, hesitating, then let his fingers pull the fabric down in the middle...further...a bit further...

There was a sharp intake of breath, but he wasn't paying attention. He could see on her skin a very visible scar, residing in between her breasts, the raised tissue marring her skin—

_What the hell—_

Several things happened at once.

A rumble of thunder split the silence just as a crack of lightning illuminated the room.

Hermione Granger's eyes fluttered open and met his.

Her bosom was still beneath his fingers, and he felt it rise, gathering air for a scream—but someone beat her to it—

There was a feminine war cry and the girl laying beside Hermione suddenly shot up.

"_REDUCTO!"_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**There is none.**


	31. Enemies of the Heir

**ENEMIES OF THE HEIR**

He was already moving before the Weasley girl screamed the curse.

The jet of light rushed toward him—he stumbled backwards just in time—it hit the bedpost instead, and the heavy wooden posts and curtains came crashing down, bringing Granger's shelves upon shelves of books with them. The redhead was quick enough to dive off the bed, but Hermione Granger was not so lucky. She disappeared under the cascade of wood, fabric, and paper as they pinned her down, effectively obscuring her and shielding her.

Destroying every chance he'd had of taking her with him.

He swore as the flurry of sound instantly awoke the other girls.

The blonde-haired girl with curly hair caught sight of him through a gap in her red curtains and let out a high-pitched scream. She set off the other three girls. He didn't even know where the redhead went.

He had to get out of there, and _fast._

Shooting a curse at the screamer, he didn't stop to watch her collapse onto the floor before running to the window. Curses flew by him—the furious redhaired Gryffindor girl was shouting one after another, but her aim was slightly off.

He shot back a few more curses in her direction over his shoulder.

A gasp of pain.

Another body hit the floor.

The spells stopped.

The dormitory door opened behind him and a few more screams erupted, but he didn't have time to silence them—half the tower was awake from this raucous already.

There wasn't even time to open the window before he charged at it, grabbing his broom as he ran, and throwing his full weight against his reflection.

The sound of screaming and glass shattering rang in his ears—

—and then he was falling, falling out into the raging storm—

—in one swift move, he got his body out from under his broom to on top of it—

—and then he was falling no longer, but soaring—

—and he guided his broom to the sea of blackness he knew to be the Forbidden Forest. Where he would alert another of the Dark Lord's followers of his mission tonight that turned out successful after all.

After all the fear of being found out, and all the adrenaline from the fight, his face contorted into a smirk beneath his Death Eater's mask.

He still had Hermione Granger's shrunken trunk.

Yes...he had some very good news for the Dark Lord indeed.

* * *

Ginny sat on the floor, leaning against Hermione's bed, arm cradled to her chest and breathing hard. She stared at the broken window across the room where the Death Eater disappeared just moments before.

She never felt more furious at herself.

The chaos had started when her hand reached her wand while he was still searching through Hermione's wardrobe. It took her even longer to pick it up and bring it back into the safety of her bed without him noticing. Only then could she take her stance and aim her wand—but then he moved towards the trunk at the foot of the bed. He spent a good few minutes trying to open it with various non-verbal spells which would have been the perfect time to hit him from behind—except for the fact that he'd been facing her the entire time.

Ginny cursed herself silently. _I should have got him right then! It was stupid waiting!_

As it was, she had waited for a more opportune moment. Then the Death Eater just shrunk Hermione's school trunk and moved from the back to the bed, and stood beside Hermione, just staring, and Ginny'd had to resume her feign-sleeping.

She had been poised on Hermione's bed, hand clutched tight on her wand under the pillow, inches way from the curtain gap. Her mouth opened to perform her infamous Reductor Curse—

_And then he actually _touched _her, the sick bastard! His hand went right to her chest and…_

Ginny shuddered, trying to be rid of the heebie-jeebies invading her mind.

She'd been so caught up in his act that it wasn't until the lightning split up the room and she saw Hermione open her eyes that she realized her opportunity had passed.

The next few minutes were a blur.

She reacted in anger, practically warning the intruder to duck before her actual curse. Then it went awry, targeting her friend instead of her enemy. She'd been too busy ducking for cover and so aghast watching the huge, heavy bed posts books fall on Hermione that she failed to notice how quickly the Death Eater was moving.

He cursed Lavender and was off for his exit before she knew it. Throwing hex after hex, she followed his progress, but because of her rage, they were mostly misses. One of them did hit him, she saw, just as he smashed into the window. But it wasn't enough to slow him down or stop him.

And one hit her. Granted, it was a knick, but he hadn't seen or aimed with it at all. And Merlin did it sting. Blood oozed out of the cut on her arm as she clutched it to her chest, trying to stop the bleeding.

She should have had him. She _could _have had him. But she had blown it.

_And now, because of me, he's gone. And it's my fault Hermione and Lavender are even hurt._

Some Gryffindor she was.

* * *

The screams jolted him awake.

Harry tore out of bed, wand at the ready, Ron right behind him. Sleep...confusion...was he dreaming…

But no. The screaming continued. Neville, Dean, and Seamus stumbled out of bed, eyes wide and alert, following Harry and Ron.

Something was _very_ wrong.

They tore down the boys' staircase to the common room. Screams echoed down the girls' staircase to them. They couldn't get up the girls' staircase, of course, but they didn't have to. Girls streamed down the stairs from every single room, some scared and tearful while others were just sleepy and confused.

"What—"

"Death Eater!"

"There was a—a—_in our room_—!"

"_Death Eater!"_

"_What_—?"

The rest of the boys joined them, creating quite a crowd. Harry frantically searched among them for Hermione—for Ginny—

Then to their horror, Parvati brought a limping Lavender down the stairs, sobbing, and told them all what happened. Ron immediately ran over to Lavender, and gathered her up in his arms, peering over his head for his sister and best friend.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked frantically, pushing his way through. "_Ginny!"_

Fear pierced his organs, and he couldn't breathe—couldn't _breathe—_

But more girls streamed down the staircase, and neither Hermione nor Ginny were among them. Worried, Ron peeled Lavender from his arms and gave her to Seamus. Immediately, she clung to Seamus, sobbing. And then the last of the girls descended, and Harry and Ron saw their chance to rush the stairs, determined.

And then, to their utter relief, Ginny and Hermione came down the stairs. The white-faced Ginny was holding her arm gingerly, blood soaking her pajama shirt, and a dazed Hermione was holding half the redhead's weight.

_Merlin—_

Harry barely had time to be relieved before the pale Ginny went straight to Ron, and he helped her sit down before she passed out.

"What happened?" Harry asked Hermione, concerned, hugging her.

But the loss in her features was evident.

"I don't...I don't know…"

The portrait hole opened, and McGonagall and Pomfrey came through, as well as several Aurors, just as Ginny told them all what she had seen, and what the Death Eater had done. Shocked faces surrounded them when she had finished.

The rest of that night was spent in torture.

It was quite akin to their third-year when Sirius broke into Gryffindor tower. Hermione, Ginny, and Lavender were fixed up by Madam Pomfrey as every student in the school was rounded up and transported to the Great Hall.

As a safety precaution, the teachers were searching the castle yet again. Harry had even lent Remus Lupin the Marauders' Map, but from the sounds of things the Death Eater was no longer in the castle. Nor did the Map show there any more running amok.

Dumbledore had been called back at once from whatever mission he had been on. Harry had never heard the Headmaster shout before, so this was definitely a first. The Aurors patrolling the grounds got an earful from him for letting such a man through and not being on their guard. He could have killed every girl in the entire dorm, let alone the whole tower.

Hermione and Ginny among them.

Hermione's entire portion of the room was in shambles. Several things were stolen, including an entire trunk, and they had no idea why.

The students lay in disquiet on their squishy sleeping bags on the floor of the Great Hall, staring up at the stormy black above them. The enchanted ceiling showing the pouring rain outside, though it hardly fell upon their heads.

"What could he have been after?" a confused Hermione asked. "He couldn't have just been after me, or else why search the room first?"

Ron called the Death Eater a name that made even Harry blush, but it was a mark of how disoriented Hermione still was that she didn't chide him.

"What was in your trunk, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

Hermione listed a bunch of random objects, mostly ginormous books that couldn't fit on her shelves. But none of them sounded remotely like anything Voldemort would be interested in. None of it made any sense...

"Oh, _no..._there was something else," Hermione suddenly moaned. "The Sorting Hat's riddles!"

"The...what?" Harry said. But he knew what she'd said.

"The Sorting Hat's riddle. At the start of term. And then the one he gave you when you went back, Harry! Those were both in my trunk!"

Ron let his breath out in a hiss. "He was looking for them so he could know how to find the heirs and the gifts. If he finds Hufflepuff's tomb…"

The thought of Voldemort getting his hands on the power of the Founders...

This changed everything.

* * *

Over the next few days, everyone was shaken and on edge. To be attacked outside of the castle was one thing...but inside the castle, inside even Gryffindor tower, and inside their _bedrooms _no less where they dressed, showered, slept, and were their most vulnerable…

It was a nightmare come to life.

The seven newfound friends were renewed in their searching for the rest of the Founders' tombs, in the hopes that they could find them before Voldemort and his spy did. Every minute during any of their free breaks and study periods, they traded the Marauders' Map back and forth. As Hermione and Ginny in particular were heavily guarded since the tower break-in, Hermione had to wait till her patrols with Ron to contribute any time towards the tomb hunt.

Ron thought he had found something one day in between classes when he saw a small animal traced into wood in a corridor. He even sent a notice on the old D.A. Galleons from last year that he, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and even Meghan Freeman had come to use to communicate with each other before.

Not even ten minutes later, they all came running towards him from their prospective classes and free time, breathless, and looked at the tiny mark in the wood with him.

"What _is _that?"

"It's not a bird…"

"Doesn't look like a lion."

"Or a griffin."

"It looks more like three hills...with the middle one being the tallest…"

And then Ron realized what it was. Harry and Neville found out the same time, and they all turned red and hastily covered it up. The girls hadn't quite caught on, but the boys ushered them away, explaining it as stupid teenagers being stupid teenagers.

They took a small break from searching after that.

But on Thursday, after days of searching everywhere they could think of for Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's tomb to no avail, Ron knew the time had come to take more drastic measures.

"Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"You know what we need to do, don't you?"

A sigh.

"We already know where it is. We already know how to get in there. And we already know we need to. You up for it, mate?"

A grumble.

And so, they began plotting when to sneak into the Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

They decided to do it at night (logically). They were all free for Thursday night and they all had a lower workload on account of the upcoming Halloween holiday ball and end of term.

It took quite a bit of sneaking around, using the Cloak, the Map, Disillusionment Charms, and Hermione's memorized schedule of prefect patrols. But at around midnight, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Meghan all arrived, from various common rooms in the castle, to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor.

"I hate this bathroom," said Ginny, shivering, stepping inside.

Harry's heart panged at the memory of what she went through when she was possessed by Voldemort's younger self. He moved closer to her, trying to comfort her, but not wanting to overstep his bounds.

"Yeah, seriously, Gin, what is it with you and bathrooms?" Ron said, trying to make light of the situation. "First you get possessed and chuck a book in a toilet, then you make a snake come out of one and set it on people...you almost died underneath one...you were cursed with an Unforgivable in one...now here you are again in a toilet…tagging along while we almost get killed again..."

"Oh, shove it, you prat!" snapped Ginny at her big brother, not amused.

"All right, what exactly are we doing again?" said Neville, nervous and jumpy to be in a girls' lavatory; sneaking around at night, no less. "We _aren't_ going to die, are we?"

"Oh, we aren't doing anything, Nev. This is all up to Harry," said Ron assuredly.

Harry was not assured.

He squared his shoulders and walked over to the faucet opposite them with the snake carved on it.

_It's all right. I can do this. I'll just...channel my inner Slytherin._

That wasn't comforting.

Imagining the snake slithering as if it was real helped, and the others waited, tension mounting, dread growing, as he hissed, "_Open up."_

It worked. Their eyes followed the top of the sinks as it rose up in the air, then their attention was drawn back to eye level as the sinks came outwards from the middle of the room. The one in front of Harry sunk down into the floor, leaving a gaping hole the size of several people abreast.

"Holy hell!" gasped Ginny as she crept closer. "I do _not _remember this…"

Hermione was white as sheet and uncharacteristically not talking; Luna's eyes were wide as saucers, Neville had backed away and looked way too nervous to form a coherent sentence. Even Meghan, their resident Slytherin, was perturbed.

"Well. After you, O Chosen One," said Ron with a smirk.

Harry gulped. Wand lit, showing the sudden drop before the tunnel curved away, Harry gritted his teeth. "Just follow me. It's not pleasant, but...you won't break any bones."

"At least not _your _bones…" Ron muttered ominously.

Then Harry dropped.

The tunnel was just as nasty and unforgiving as he remembered. Falling through the air with nothing underneath until suddenly the curve of the tunnel turned more into a slide. He tried not to shout on his way down, as he didn't want to scare the others, but couldn't help one or two slipping out when the tunnel floor suddenly dropped from under him.

Until he was at last at the bottom, sprawled out on the bone-strewn ground, and picked himself up.

"I'm all right!" he hollered up. "Come down one at a time!"

It took a while, but they all came down until at last Ron was the final one to slide down and join them. He looked far better than the rest of them, having known what to expect, and landed on his feet.

"I thought I heard the bathroom door opening as I came down, but I'm not sure," he said. "We'll need to make this quick, just in case."

They followed him and Harry through the Corridor of Secrets. The walls and numerous pipes were checked all over using spells to reveal the tomb entrance as they fanned out. Their eyes were wide, taking everything in, looking all around them, as if expecting to see the Basilisk jump out at them at any moment.

"Don't worry," Harry said quietly. "The monster is dead. Has been for over four years."

He led them to the cave-in, and Ron told them about Lockhart causing it, the daft git. One by one, they followed Harry through the hole in the top of the wall of loose rocks, until they came to the opposite side of the Corridor and the serpentine Chamber door, which Harry opened up for them.

The Chamber of Secrets was just as large and magnanimous as Harry remembered. The snake statues, the bridge walkway going straight towards the larger-than-life stillness of Salazar Slytherin, the sheer drop off the edge and the water surrounding them. Even the eerie green lighting and terrifyingly chilling atmosphere was the same. Tunnel holes in the ceiling scared them into thinking that something sinister might drop onto them at any moment. The rippling water surrounding the bridge made the ominous impression that another Basilisk was going to burst through from the depths below and kill them where they stood.

"Whatever you do," whispered Hermione, her voice still echoing around the quiet room, "Do not go in the water. The bottom isn't for hundreds of feet, and the water drained in from the Black Lake, which means any kinds of creatures may be in it. Salazar Slytherin's head is just the top of a very long body that stands on the ground. All these snake statues have unseen bodies that curve below us to the ground. They are all around fifty feet high. This chamber has flooded over the centuries, covering up the ground completely until now just this bridge remains. And in a few more years, this too shall be covered up."

"How did you know all that?" asked Harry. "None of the books in the library knew anything about the Chamber. Slytherin kept it hidden."

"_Artificium Merlini._"

Awed, they walked near the water, trying to peer into the dark, greenish murky depths. It gave Harry the heebie jeebies thinking about the creatures he encountered in the Black Lake being in here as well.

They walked quietly and nervously farther out on the bridge. And there, in the middle of the end, was the humongous skeleton of the Basilisk.

"Wicked," said Ron, who hadn't seen it last time.

"You _battled _that, Harry?" said Neville in his deep voice, awed.

Unnerved, they edged around it, and Harry shut his eyes to block out his twelve-year-old hellish memories of running away from that thing.

_Get in, find the tomb, get out. Simple as that._

But his heart thumped loudly regardless, and he found himself squeezing Ginny's hand as they came closer to the large head of the statue, right to where Harry had found Ginny's body and thought she was dead…

"You found me right here," she whispered. "If you hadn't, Harry...if you hadn't been brave enough to come down here to find me…"

"Don't finish that sentence," Harry said firmly. He couldn't even think of the what-if's right now.

_Get in, find the tomb, get out._

He said this aloud then, and they all spread out. Spells were cast along the snake statues and the bits of wall they could see and reach. Even along the head of the great Salazar himself, though they didn't dare enter his disgustingly opened mouth.

Scouring the wall around the statue, Harry kept looking for a tiny snake carved into stone. There had been a badger carved into the tomb off the kitchens, Ron and Hermione had said. There had been a snake on the faucet tap of the sink, showing the entrance to the tunnel. That had to be the key in finding this tomb.

But for almost an hour, they scoured the room to no avail.

"Harry…" Hermione started. But she didn't have to finish. Harry knew already.

"I know, I know, all right...we need to split up," he agreed. "We'll each take one of these tunnels and see if it's somewhere else."

"None of us should go it alone," Ron broke in. "Why don't we split into teams? Harry, you and Ginny take the tunnel on the right, Neville and Meghan can take the one on the left, and Hermione and I will...you know...go inside that slimy bastard's mouth."

"Oh, wow, thanks for volunteering me for the most unpleasant one," said Hermione with a grimace.

"You and I best know what we are searching for," said Ron, coloring. "So I figured we should handle the toughest one. Plus none of us have the benefit of the Map to help us as it doesn't work down here."

Harry was too elated to be going off alone with Ginny to really care.

"What about me?" said Luna, hands clasped behind her back.

Ron smiled. "I didn't forget about you, Luna, don't worry. We just ran out of partners."

"Oh, I have a partner," she said serenely.

There was a pause as they furrowed their brows. But Ron just took her odd statement in stride.

"Oooookay. Well, that gives us an even number then. I was thinking it would be great if you could stay here and search some more? Keep casting the revealing charm around any spots we may have missed. If any of us sends our Patronuses or red sparks or something down the tunnels to you, then you'll be able to alert the others and send them after us to help out. You all know how to cast your Patrous messengers, I trust?" said Ron.

They all nodded hesitantly. It was one of the spells covered by the D.A. class the previous Sunday. Harry was more grateful than ever for the chance to arm the entire school with knowledge like this.

"Don't worry. You can do this," said Harry to them all, looking each in the eye. "Keep casting the revealing charm. Be on the lookout for anyone...any_thing..._amiss. Have your guard up. And send for help if you think you found something, all right?"

The six teenagers all nodded back to him, and they all split up.

This was going to be a long night, he thought as he followed Ginny into the long, dark tunnel.

* * *

Luna stared after the departing teams and fiddled with the bangles on her wrists. They were green today and paired very nicely with her favorite grindylow blouse. She wanted to dress up nicely for their Slytherin outing and, as she wasn't a Slytherin and was not in possession of their uniform, knew that dressing in green was the next best thing.

Sighing, she glanced around her at the cavern and started work on finding the tomb. She knew it wasn't in this room, but she told Ron she would help search for it, and she was a witch of her word. She wanted to help. She was really good at helping, she found. Though most people never asked her. Well, ghosts did. Ghosts were very fond of her. They said she was like them. She supposed she was like them a little bit. She could often see things others couldn't, like ghosts could.

Like Draco Malfoy, for instance.

He had been following them for quite some time, hiding in the shadows and watching. But he didn't know her very well. So he was probably watching someone else. Maybe Hermione, because Luna saw him watching her a lot. He watched Ronald a lot too. Luna used to watch Ronald a lot last year. He was very cute and had a great number of freckles, which of course meant he was very studious. And he had a very long nose, which meant he was very trustworthy...alhough Muggles thought it was the other way around. Muggles did get quite a lot wrong. After all, the fairy in that story wasn't a fairy at all, but a witch. Fairies of course were not that tall. They didn't carry wands either. And they weren't very blue. Well...some were. But only because of the billywig dung.

But she knew Draco was there. Nobody else said anything about him though, so she didn't either. After all, if somebody was hiding, that meant they did not want to be found. It was rude to interrupt somebody's hiding. Unless, of course, one was playing a game. And interrupting was required.

Though she had never played hide-and-seek before.

She drew closer to a serpentine statue and regarded the slithering forked tongue gravely before casting the charm on it. She quite liked snakes, actually. Most people didn't. That's because they didn't understand them, she guessed. It was easy to be fearful of what one didn't understand. But snakes...were misunderstood. Quite like a lot of the Slytherins, she found. Many of them didn't belong in that House any more than that House deserved to have a bad reputation. It was just how it was.

She came across a snake once. In the pond in between her house and the Weasley house. It was rather cute, not at all nasty and untruthful. It let her touch it, and it was so nice that she let its tongue touch her skin. That was how they smelled things. It probably smelled her moon frog, Sappho, on her.

Casting the spell Hermione taught them over and over, Luna wondered if Draco was going to come say hello. He was being awfully quiet. And watching her every move. Perhaps he didn't know the spell? Should she show it to him to teach him? Or did he want to stay hidden even though the others had gone?

Step by step, Luna drew closer to him, standing sideways so he could see her wrist movements. But he scooted farther back, so maybe he couldn't hear her?

"Do we want me to talk louder?" she finally asked. "I can enunciate the spell more clearly, if you'd like. Do you have troubles hearing like my Aunt Oddness? It is nothing to be ashamed of, you know."

Surprise emanated from his aura.

Luna looked directly at him. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you have glumbumble treacle in your ears."

He stepped out of the shadows then, his wand pointed straight at her.

"How could you tell I was here?" he hissed. "My Disillusionment Charm was up."

Luna shrugged, and went back to casting the spells Ron told her to cast. "Did you not want to be found? I thought it was rather obvious. But I didn't tell anyone, just in case you were trying to surprise them. People like surprises."

His wand lowered. Confusion was still evident, though he was doing a good job keeping it off his face.

"What is your deal?" he asked. "Why are you so…"

"Loony?" Luna said.

Draco slowly nodded.

"Sometimes I can see things others can't. I have a hard time fitting in sometimes. Nobody in my House likes me. They call me names when they think I can't hear them. They play hexes on me...steal my clothes...my shoes...try to lock me out of Ravenclaw Tower sometimes…" Her wand movements slowed and then halted as she trailed off. But suddenly she was back casting charms and talking again. "It's not their fault, though, that I'm different. They just don't know how else to act around me. Nobody seems to know. That's okay, though. I don't mind."

There was a silence after this, until Luna cast her last spell on the statue and turned to him.

"You're a lot like me, you know. Different. Your House doesn't like you very much anymore. Sometimes you don't sit at the Slytherin table anymore. But you don't know where else to eat. Sometimes you don't sleep in your dormitory anymore. But you don't know where else to sleep. You don't have any friends anymore either. Like me. Except...now I do. Harry and Ron, Hermione and Ginny, Neville and Meghan. They're my friends now. You should be our friend too," she said, giving him a warm smile.

Dumbfounded, he stared at her. But the cool mask he always wore was soon put back on again.

"How the _hell_ do you know all this stuff?"

A shadow crossed her thoughts. "When I was younger, my mother died right in front of me. She was experimenting with spells, you see. They always fascinated her. One in particular...the clairvoyancy spell...was one she wanted to make stronger. She was trying to pair it with the investigation spell so she could find a way to map out the future. But...things went wrong. I wasn't supposed to be there. She didn't see me until it was too late. My mother was hit with most of it. She died. But fragments of the spells hit me too and left scars behind. The healers say that's why I can see things others can't."

There was an even longer silence. Draco's wand was loose by his side.

"I'm...sorry," he said, almost as astonished as she was that those words left his mouth.

"Oh, it's not your fault," she said kindly. "You weren't there."

Luna turned back and surveyed the snake statues.

"Your father was though," she said.

Shock.

Horror.

They both slammed into her from Draco's aura, but she continued just as calmly as if she was talking about Flobberworms.

She rather liked Flobberworms.

"I saw him hiding in the shadows outside the window. That's what I went to tell my mother about. But I think he got to her before I could. That's why her spells exploded. He threw a curse at them that magnified their power. He must not have liked her very much," she said in afterthought.

Draco was gaping, clutching the stone snake for support. "My...my father killed..._killed_ your mother?"

"It might not have been him, you know. It might have been his twin brother."

"He doesn't have a twin brother!"

"Oh...maybe somebody used Polyjuice? Does he normally do that sort of thing?"

He stared at her, face darkening. "No...he usually _does_ do this sort of thing. That's the problem. Why aren't you more outraged about this? You're talking about it like...like we're just waiting in line or something! She was a pureblood, wasn't she? Why would he kill a...a…I mean, what, was she hiding Mudbloods in her spare time?"

"No," said Luna frankly, not happy with his use of the word. "She was a spellcaster. She invented spells in her spare time."

She turned away from him and started walking down the stone bridge. He followed her.

"What...what did everyone else think about why he was there?"

"Oh, don't worry," she reassured him. "I didn't tell anyone."

Draco stopped again. "But _why?_ He would have gone to Azkaban for that!"

Luna shrugged. "Nobody asked."

"Why wouldn't you want him behind bars?" He insisted. "If anybody killed my mother, I'd want to kill them myself!"

Luna looked at him again, her protuberant eyes even darker in the cave. "That's a funny way of looking at it. Putting him in prison wouldn't bring her back to life, you know. It just robs him of his."

"Yes, but...but...but still—"

A burst of red sparks came shooting down one of the tunnels. Their eyes both stared at the sparks, hearts paused. But there was something else with the sparks. Something loud...and big..._very big…_

"What is that?" he gasped.

"It's coming this way. We should probably run."

It shot out of the tunnel with a force greater than any spell, and at once filled the cavern, shooting straight towards them.

"RUN!"

* * *

Neville knew he liked Meghan Freeman.

A Slytherin.

A Slytherin girl.

But still...he liked her.

He liked going to the hospital wing and watching her work with Madam Pomfrey, practicing healing spells. He liked watching her study a cut or a boil like how he studied plants. He liked bringing Professor Sprout's newest plants to her and Madam Pomfrey for them to use in healing salves. He liked getting hurt or...you know...pretending to be hurt far worse than he actually was...just so he could see her. He simply liked being with her.

Like right now.

Her spicy attitude was rather lax in the dark, as close as they were to danger. Their wands in front of them illuminated everything. The many twists and turns of this tunnel. The water they kept stepping in. The low ceiling over his tall form. The occasional rat trying to scurry to the shadows. Yet she wasn't very squeamish.

"You're staring at me you know."

"Oh?" he asked. "I do apologize. That wasn't very appropriate of me—"

"No...it's okay...I kind of like it."

"You...you do?"

"Yeah. I like staring at you too."

"You—" His voice was high. Neville cleared his throat and lowered it, then tried again. "You do?"

Meghan laughed.

The sound echoed around them.

And then they saw the sparks. And the rumble. The loud, angry sound of something rushing towards them. Neville gripped Meghan's hand.

She gripped his hand back.

"RUN!"

* * *

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you...still have feelings for Cho Chang?"

"Er...no...I don't think so. At least I haven't thought about her for a while now."

"Oh. That's good!"

"...that's good?"

"Well, yes. It means you've gotten over her. You're free to move on."

"Do you...still have feelings for Dean Thomas?"

"No. We broke up, actually."

"Oh. Tha-tha-that's good!"

"That's good?"

"Er...I mean...you know...that's good that you know what you want. And that he wasn't it."

"Oh."

"Ginny?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think…"

"...yeah?"

"I mean...since...you know...you aren't seeing anyone right now...and I'm not seeing anyone right now…"

"...oh, Harry, just spit it out."

"Iwasthinkingmaybewecouldseeeachother?"

"...sorry?"

"I was thinking….maybe...that is, if you're interested…if we could...maybe...you know..."

"Harry?"

"...yeah?"

"Do you want to go out with me?"

"I...I mean...since you're asking...I suppose if you _really _want to…"

"You're just as big a prat as Ron is."

"Are you serious?"

"No. I'm not Sirius. If you'd rather go out with him, though..."

"Oh, hell no. You are far prettier than he is."

"Yeah...I suppose...plus, he's not a redhead."

"Ron is a redhead."

"...you'd rather go out with Ron?"

"Ew. No. Just...no. I would really..._really_...love to not go out with Ron."

"Really? Because I'd really..._really_...love...to not go out with someone who isn't you."

"R-r-r-really?"

"Really."

"_Bloody hell_…"

"You know you're grinning like a dragon in a meatshop, don't you?"

"I am? Then I am one lucky dragon…"

"Then I suppose that makes me one lucky piece of—"

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That."

"Oh, shite. Harry—"

"RUN!"

* * *

Because Ron chose the most difficult tunnel, he and Hermione had the most difficult time getting into it.

As the monk-like statue's head was not conjoined with the bridge (instead being separated by a narrow channel of water), they quickly realized they'd have to use their wits to get in.

"A ferry, d'you reckon?" Ron asked, unsure. "I mean...levitating each other is too advanced for us, a bridge would require far too much effort and time, same goes for a boat, you wouldn't do great on a broom plus they are far too complex to conjure or transfigure, and obviously swimming is out…"

Hermione didn't say anything, but gave an almost imperceptible nod.

So Ron began conjuring a wooden raft to use to ferry them across. By the time he was done, it was several feet across and very roughly hewn together, but it was sturdy and very thick, and would hold their weight.

They both stepped onto it, holding the other for support, and Ron jettisoned them towards the nastily ominous mouth. Clambering through onto the statue's tongue (Ron shivered at this), which was very smooth, they then set off the dank, short, narrow tunnel into the darkness.

It took a minute or so of walking, Hermione casting the revealing spell the whole time. They didn't think they would find the tomb in the random side of the tunnel, however. Slytherin had been a pompous bastard and one for theatrics. Ron very much believed they were going to find a huge, serpentine elaborate door at the end of the pipe corridor.

After they'd been in the claustrophobic tunnel for far too long for Ron's taste, he thought he saw a wall up ahead. They quickly realized the ground below them was sloping up to rather an uphill climb and they would have to scale the wall.

Hermione didn't talk, but grimly started climbing, slipping in the wetness. As it was difficult for Hermione to find enough handholds, Ron went behind her to help boost her up, but still she slipped and started falling—

Ron caught her before she fell, then colored as he realized his hands were holding her bum. Quickly he helped her get back up again, but his face remained far too red in the darkness after that.

"S-s-sorry," Hermione said, teeth chattering in the cold tunnel.

Of course she had known where his hands had been, he realized.

And then concentration over where to put his own hands and feet took precedence. Pretty soon, they were both mastering the rock-climbing with something only a little less than grace. Ron was horribly glad he paired her up with him instead of Ginny, say, whose incessant prattling would have annoyed him to no end. He loved his sister, but...there was a reason why he didn't constantly hang out with her.

Of course, there was another reason Ron wanted to be alone with Hermione.

He wanted to say something. Strike up a conversation. See how she was doing, after…

But their current task proved to be too difficult for words. So he held his tongue.

After about twenty feet going straight up though, the tunnel flattened out and they were walking in a trickling stream, casting their spells on the surrounding circular pipe tunnel.

Until...it ended. Suddenly, abruptly, they were faced with a circular wall filled with crisscrossing pipes. The tunnel continued far above their heads as it went almost straight up. But there was no way anybody would put a tomb that high up…

Was there?

"It's got to be here," Hermione whispered furiously, scanning the wall before them with spells.

"Hermione…" he said after a bit. "Are you...doing okay...after the...you know...the break-in?"

It was a full minute before she responded.

"I'm worried, Ron. _All the time._ Worried about Tonks. Worried about Crookshanks. About my parents. About your parents. About you. About Harry. About the Spy. About the riddles, and the gifts, and the heirs. About the Slytherins. About the Death Eaters. About Voldemort. About Viktor. About the Wolflord Potion and the lack of an antidote. About the constant attacks. About the never-ending nightmares. About the continual fear. I just...I want it all to end, Ron. I want to be done with it. I want...to...to just go to sleep and never wake up." Her voice was hopelessly exhausted and drained.

Worry for her pierced through his mind, and Ron just couldn't fathom how much stress all that must be. She didn't even mention schoolwork and, in a perfect world, that would have been the only thing she'd be worried about. He wasn't even worried about half the things on that list, which just goes to show how many things he had not been thinking about lately.

He searched for something to say. Something to help her. Something that mattered.

Catching her elbow so she would look at him, he saw the tears on her face from his dim wandlight.

"You have me," he said resolutely. "I can't make it all go away...but at least I can help you with it. So you don't have to bear it alone."

The gratitude on her face was evident.

Then her eyes flickered and caught something to the left of his head. He turned and saw what had captured her attention.

"Is that a…"

Instead of a pipe crisscrossing above their heads like the many others, it had eyes. It was made to look like a copper snake and was sticking mere inches out of the wall like the other pipes. But it was slightly curved. In fact...very suspiciously so.

"It's a handle," Ron realized, eyes wide. He reached out to pull it—

And nothing happened.

"It's a snake, Ron. It needs Parseltongue," Hermione said, continuing bitterly. "Of course he would do this. It's just like everything else in this Chamber. Only his Heirs may enter, and nobody else is deemed marginally worthy."

"Well...I may not be an Heir...but I do know a thing or two about Parseltongue," Ron assured her.

And then he opened his mouth and a long hiss came out of it.

"_Hasseh gheseh nee ghe sashe heh."_

Hermione jerked back from him, startled, and to both of their amazement, the snake handle's eyes gleamed, and it slithered, and an unlocking sound echoed, and the pipe-covered wall slowly and agonizingly creaked open.

Ron noticed her astonished gaze, and grinned. "Harry taught me a thing or two."

A small smile peered across her face as she stared into his eyes. He got the sudden urge then to kiss her. Like really..._really..._just take her beautifully unique face in his hands, and just—

But the moment broke, as something caught their eye.

An eerily green fog crept out of the opening, surrounding them both. It filled every crevice in Ron's body, making him tingle from the awe-inspiring power it contained. Before he could stop himself, he closed his eyes and breathed it in, reveling in the taste of it, the smell, the force of its great magic emanating and resounding within him. It was so incredibly _brilliant_, and he felt his magic enhancing with the might of it—

"_Ron..."_

Startled, Ron was jerked back to the present, and saw Hermione had fallen to her knees, gasping for breath, like the green mist was suffocating her, weakening her, killing her…

Ron snapped out of it, grabbing her around the body and pulling her away. But the green mist crept after them, seeking them out, trying to find them and finish what it had started, its long tendril-like ghostly fingers clawing towards them—

"Hermione—it isn't safe for you—!"

"What...what..._why_…"

"Because you're Muggleborn! It knows you are. It can't find magical blood in you, so it's poisoning you! It's trying to kill you!"

"But...we have...we have to…" Hermione's voice was growing weaker as the green mist caught up with them. They were at the edge of the cliff they had climbed up before.

"No, Hermione!" he shouted at her. "_I _have to. It knows I'm pureblood. It didn't affect me the way it did you. You need to wait here. Send out the sparks. I'm going to be as fast as I can, all right?"

And then he did one of the most difficult things he had ever done in his life.

He left her there.

Running towards the tomb, Ron knew he had to be fast. He had to get Slytherin's locket, and get out. Get in and get out. He reached the door, already standing open from before. The green smoke was choking him this time, as thick and congested as it was, and his eyes watered as he peered inside.

It was a much bigger room, than Helga Hufflepuff's had been. Far more grandiose and relevant.

And still Ron battled the overwhelming ambition and greed from the onslaught. He staggered to the tomb in the middle, the ornate black obsidian carved to within an inch of its life with runes and serpents.

And there…

There on the shelf…

"_Accio Locket!" _he tried.

Nothing.

"_Accio Locket!" _he tried again, putting more magic into it.

And not just nothing this time...but what looked like a locket on the shelf just...just _shimmered _and disappeared.

It was an illusion spell.

He swore.

And then...he swore again. Much louder this time because something was happening, and it wasn't good. It was bad. Bad, bad, bad—

The disappearance of the illusion set off a curse. Water rushed around the room with a terrifying force and speed. Like the Fiendfyre in its watery form, and it was everywhere, and it was rising up three times his height and growing with every passing second into the form of a _snake—_

And it lunged.

"Holy shite!" he roared, and then sprinted out of the room. Ran, full on, down the corridor, desperate to reach Hermione before—

The water crashed around him, behind him, under him, lifting him up, overtaking him—

Hermione's terrified face watched helplessly as the water rushed towards her. She shot out red sparks from her wand towards where the others must be, but didn't have time to save herself—

And then it swept her up too, and Ron tried in vain to grab her, to keep his face above water, but he couldn't see her, he couldn't see anything, just darkness, and he was tumbling head over heels, and couldn't _breathe_—

Rushing along the tunnels, splitting into forks, and was Hermione still with him—and then a small hand found his, and he pulled her closer—he wasn't going to lose her—

Then he saw Harry and Ginny, and his face merged from the water long enough to shout at them to run—

But it was too late.

The watery snake swept them up too, and their shouts and screams mingled with his and Hermione's water-filled ones, and Ron went under again, water filling his lungs, and they were on fire, and he was bursting, and was this what it was like to die…?

And then miraculously—_miraculously—_they shot out into the Chamber of Secrets, and the water dispersed, filling the Chamber and splashing several feet in the air, up around the walls, swirling around with the mighty rush of sound until slowly, slowly, it ebbed and flowed and died down…

Until they were all sprawled on the stone floor, soaking wet, in several inches of water. Painfully, Ron picked himself up, coughing and wheezing, spitting up the nasty-tasting stuff and puking it up as well.

Harry, already standing next to him, reached down to help him up. "You all right, Ron? Hermione?"

Ron's eyes shot towards Hermione, who was still with him, looking very pale as she gasped for breath on the ground.

"What...the..._hell…_?" gasped Ginny, wringing out her hair.

"Well…" Ron said apologetically. "Good news is, we found the tomb!"

"And the bad news?" Harry deadpanned.

"There was no locket. Just...the illusion of one. And when I tried to summon it, it triggered a curse."

"And let me guess," said Ginny snidely. "This curse was Slytherin's nasty way of wiping out anyone who isn't his Heir and visciously drowning them in the process?"

Ron shrugged. "Considering we are all here, undrowned, I consider this a win."

Just then, Neville and Meghan came sprinting into the Chamber, their footsteps splashing in the water.

"You lot all right?" said Neville, breathless. "We came as quickly as we could—"

"Wait, why aren't you two wet?" said Ginny suspiciously. "That water went in every tunnel."

Meghan shrugged. "Not ours, I guess. Maybe we were higher elevation? Wait, what's he doing here?"

They all whipped around to where she was pointing at Luna Lovegood, who was standing right next to Draco fucking Malfoy.

Ron swore.

Wands went up on all sides. Well, except Luna's, of course, but she appeared to be even more determined to stand beside him, as if protecting him.

"Easy now, all right?" said Malfoy. He and Luna were both suspiciously dry, and that alone peeved Ron even more. "I was on Patrol and I saw a huge gaping hole in the bathroom and somebody fall down it, so I thought I'd go and save them."

"Then why the hell haven't we seen you sooner?" Harry snapped.

"Why do you think?" Malfoy hissed. "When I saw it was you lot, I knew you were going to hex me again. So I Disillusioned myself. It's not like I could just fly up that tunnel and be on my merry way. You lot looked like you knew where you were going. So I followed you."

"And how do you explain how the water missed you?" said Harry, eyes narrowed.

"The Weasel shouted to run, didn't he? Just because I'm quicker on my feet than any of you doesn't mean I should be persecuted for it, Saint Potter!" Malfoy said venomously. "Now why don't you quit aggravating me and figure out how we're going to get out of this mess!"

Ron dropped his wand. The rest of them followed suit, though Harry did not.

"He has a point," said Neville. "How are we getting out of here, Harry?"

For once, Harry looked stumped. They didn't have Fawkes this time around to fly them back up, Ron realized. If they could maybe Summon their racing brooms though…

The rest of them threw out several ideas, but each one seemed weaker than the last. Harry's idea that they use the house-elves turned into a bust when they couldn't call for Dobby, Winky, or even Kreacher.

"Are you kidding me?" said Harry savagely, kicking at a puddle of water. "Slytherin must have put some sort of...I don't know...ward or ban around this place to make not even house-elves be able to pop in. The slimy, arrogant arse."

"Out of all of our planning," said Ginny morosely, "How did we fail at an exit strategy?"

There was a silence after this as they ruminated this. Ron looked up at them, and realized they all cut quite the miserable figures. He, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny were all soaking wet while Neville and Meghan, and Luna and Malfoy (who was standing as far from Harry and Ron as he could manage), were all relatively unscathed. And they were all—barring stupid Malfoy, of course—wearing their comfortable Muggle clothing.

"There is one thing," said Hermione quietly.

Ron's head jerked towards her, astonished that she was speaking up after being rather mute for so long. This by itself unnerved Ron more than anything else, as he'd never known Hermione to just...not talk. She still looked pale from the water onslaught and that weird greenish fog-thing, but other than that, she was talking fine and not coughing or anything—

"Go on, Hermione," he encouraged, when she'd halted.

"Well...the bones for example," Hermione explained.

That confounded them all.

"The...bones?" said Harry. "Why are we talking about bones?"

"Well, think about it. There were probably hundreds of rat bones on the ground in that one chamber before this one. But there is no possible way for the basilisk to have eaten rats while it was alive—"

"And why not?" said Malfoy, scathingly.

"Oh come, Draco, surely you must know this one, given your House and all," Hermione shot back, just as scathingly. "Snakes eat prey that is either the size of their own girth at its widest point, or just a bit bigger—of course, the bigger the prey, the more it can cause gut impaction. Besides look at those fangs. The only way it could have eaten a rat is if it hopped into its mouth. Which means there is no _way _that a basilisk as large as that thing—" she pointed to the looming carcass mere feet from them— "could have survived on tiny rats alone. Besides the fact that those bones were whole, and for a basilisk to have eaten any of them, the bones would have dissolved within its body."

"Meaning…?" said Harry, still clueless.

"Merlin, you're daft," said Malfoy, rolling his eyes. "She's saying the basilisk didn't eat the rats, dimwit. And it didn't eat any humans while it was alive and patrolling the castle. Which means it went somewhere _else _for its food. Now where can you think of that is huge, can hide a fifty-foot snake, and has room enough to house creatures large enough for a basilisk to eat?"

"The Forbidden Forest," said Ron and Harry at the same time.

"Exactly," said Hermione after her initial glare at Malfoy (for stealing her thunder, as it were). "Which means that one of these backdoor tunnels will lead us straight to the grounds. All we have to do is find it."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**So sorry this chapter took so long in getting to you! I wrote most of it in the past two weeks. Everything about the Spy in the Tower was already written, then the rest of this chapter was going to be what you'll find in the next chapter, "The Fall of Ginevra Weasley". **

**But then I decided to have them go into the Chamber of Secrets and find Slytherin's tomb, even though I already had plans for the Locket, which meant most of this chapter is brand new. I didn't think it would take this long to write the darn thing, but a lot of research had to go into the scenery for the Chamber and the tunnels, and the basilisk as well. And then of course I got distracted watching some Anaconda movies and other monster movies, lol. And this is how I discovered a few of Rowling's plot holes while I was at it and so I wrote in more extra bits to try and plug them up for her. But I didn't think you'd mind have several thousand more words to read.**

**Always remember the best books have the best research!**

**Anyway I hope you liked it! We will be seeing more fallout from this chapter in the next, although fallout from the Spy in the Tower won't happen for a few more chapters. Hopefully the next chapter (which only needs a few more scenes, not the whole thing) will be here within the week! **

**As always, don't forget to tell me what you'd like to see, or what you want to have happen. Just a few more chapters till we come to the climax! What do you want me to put in the climax? What are you hoping you will get out of it? **

**Let me know, in the review box below!**


	32. The Fall of Ginevra Weasley

**THE FALL OF GINEVRA WEASLEY**

It was with great exhaustion and weariness that the eight of them were able to drop their tired bodies into bed an hour later.

Just as Hermione had said, one of the tunnels led right outside. It was the tunnel that Neville and Meghan had taken that looped a few different times and one portion came out near the boathouse. Ginny had never known such relief as when they had found an end to that horrid snake den of doom. She almost fell down to kiss the grass when they found it.

As stealthily as they could, they traipsed up the stairs that led up the cliffside, all Disillusioned. With the Map's help, they were able to stay well away from any patrols. Although Ginny saw that Harry was very careful not to let Malfoy see the Map, only opening it inside his Invisibility Cloak. Finally, the Gryffindors made it to their own tower and collapsed into a deep sleep, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Harry still sopping wet.

Of course, it only lasted for three hours.

Ginny grumbled, moaned, and complained all throughout breakfast. There was no way she could handle classes today. It was a Friday and Merlin abroad and his blue balls too, she had Double Potions.

Not fun, not fun, not fun.

She barely managed to get through half the day and make it to lunch. She slept all through History of Magic, but what else could you expect? Binns was boring as all hell. It did help that every time she passed Harry in the halls, they grinned at each other. They hadn't had much time to talk after they decided to start going out, but they had seemed to come to some unspoken agreement to keep it a secret. At least for now.

_Merlin, I haven't even kissed him yet…_

But fantasies of kissing Harry bleeding Potter were put on hold by the sight of Hermione as Ginny came into the entrance hall. Ginny really wanted to talk to her about where the Gryffindor tomb might be, and now seemed as good a time as any.

"Hermione, wait!" Ginny called, seeing the bushy curls ahead of her in the entrance hall. "Don't eat lunch without me!"

Hermione stopped and turned, confused. "Sorry, I'm not going to lunch yet, I'm dropping off my books in the tower. I don't need them for Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes is a practical today. Do you want to come with me?"

"Oh, no thanks. I just wanted to spend _some_ time with you, not that much time," Ginny said cheekily. "I'm starving right now, I don't think my stomach can wait for you. Carry on!"

Hermione shrugged and grabbed the bag that was already hanging off her shoulder and continued up the entrance hall staircase.

Ginny made for the Great Hall and found her brother easily amongst the shorter, less-vibrant-haired students at the Gryffindor table.

Finally, she plopped her heavy, bulking bag beside Ron, and dug into the mashed potatoes in front of her. It didn't take her long to see Lavender, her brother's girl-toy, casting angry tear-filled daggers at them.

"What's with Lav-Lav?" Ginny asked, not too kindly.

But she only had three hours of sleep. So suck it.

Ron sighed, depressed. "She knows I snuck out last night. Without her. I can't tell her why, of course, and she thinks it's because Hermione and I were off..._you know_—" his face turned scarlet at this "—since she saw Hermione come back late, same as me."

"That girl is N.E.W.T.-level," Ginny deadpanned. "She really didn't see Harry, Neville, and me all come back at the same time? Hermione makes sense because they share a dorm. But even Disillusioned, how would she know about you coming back late and not us?"

Ron shrugged.

"She broke up with me over it," he said, dejectedly.

Ginny grimaced. "That really sucks. And not fair, too. I mean, you were with Hermione, but you weren't..._you know..._"

They both reddened.

But inwardly, Ginny couldn't help but be pleased. _Well, now that Hermione isn't with Krum, and Ron isn't with Lavender, _Ginny thought, _my evil plan is coming to fruition..._

_But time. He just needs a bit more time to get over Lavender._

Heartbreak was clearly written on Ron's face, and he glanced forlornly at the blonde's direction.

"I tried, you know. I _really _tried talking to her," he said. "To explain that we were with you guys and Meghan and Malfoy, but she just laughed at me. Said there's no way she's going to believe I was off with Slytherins, with as much as I hate them. She's just convinced that I'm cheating on her with my best friend."

Ginny chewed slowly, watching him push his food around disinterestedly in a very un-Ron-like way. Things must be really bad if he wasn't even eating…

"Look, I'm really sorry, Ron," she said, setting her fork down and rubbing his back. "I know it's tough. Is there anything I can do to help? I could go talk to her…"

"No..." Ron sighed glumly. "It's probably for the best. I was thinking of breaking up with her anyway. Hermione wanted me to wait till after the Halloween Ball so Lavender could still have a date for it. I just..._Merlin_...I'm going to miss her. Her soft hands...her smiling at me...laughing when I tell a joke…"

"The snogging?" Ginny offered, trying to crack a grin on his face.

"The snogging. Definitely the snogging," Ron agreed...but no grin. "But mostly, just..._her_."

"Her?" asked Harry, sitting down.

Ginny nodded over to Lavender. "Her."

Harry's face fell as he realized they were talking about the break-up. "Oh...her."

The witch in question was wiping her tear-stained face and avoiding their gazes.

Reaching over, Harry clapped a reassuring hand on Ron's shoulder, squeezing it. "If it helps, I bet she's going to miss you too."

Ron put his head down in his arms. He looked completely heartbroken.

And Ginny was at a loss as to how to help him.

* * *

With Ron moping and trailing behind as he walked, and with Hermione strangely absent from lunch that day, Harry found himself walking down to their next class alone. He was just on his way to Hagrid's in the breezy open-windowed corridor when he bumped into Professor Jones.

"Oh, good afternoon, Harry. I was just coming to find you. I wanted to make sure you were all right," she said, concerned.

He was taken aback. "Oh...why wouldn't I be?" he asked.

Professor Jones looked at him. "I—I would have thought it was obvious, Harry. It's almost Halloween."

Harry blinked. "Er...so?"

"H-has no one ever told you?"

"Told me what?"

There was pity in her eyes, as well as sadness. "Harry...your parents died on Halloween. Fifteen years ago. I...I thought you knew..."

"_I thought you knew..."_ All the way down to Care of Magical Creatures, Harry couldn't stop thinking about it. "_I thought you knew..."_

He _had_ known, he realized. A long-hidden memory sprung to mind. It was his eleventh birthday and Hagrid was telling him how his parents died.

'_All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you were all living, on Halloween ten years ago...' _Hagrid had said.

His eleven-year-old self had heard him speak those words, but the date didn't mean anything then. He had completely forgotten it until now.

_Fifteen years…_

* * *

Hermione and Ron heard all about it from Harry while they were in class. It was one of the last classes on Friday, the twenty-fifth of October, and the sun was bleak and watery in the sky. Shivering even with heat spells cloaking them, the sixth-years crowded around Hagrid as he finished his last outside lesson on runespoor.

Hermione looked at Harry with pity written on her face. She knew he didn't want or need it, but she couldn't help it. She looked over and saw Ron giving her his warning look—the one that clearly meant "He doesn't need you to feel sorry for him, Hermione."

_I don't care. Harry's parents died, for goodness' sake. And just because he's a boy, it doesn't mean he doesn't feel emotional about it. If my parents died, I would want sympathy wherever I could get it. _

They huddled behind everyone else as Hagrid explained about each of the runespoor's three heads. As fascinating as the three snake heads were, the three best friends were more concerned about their conversation.

"But Harry...I always thought you knew they died on Halloween..." Hermione said, reproachfully.

He shrugged. "I forgot. It just didn't seem that important at the time."

"Is it just me, or do bad things always happen on Halloween?" said Ron darkly. "I think Voldemort cursed it, like he did that teaching post. Have you noticed, something has happened every Halloween we've been here so far?"

"What do you mean?" said Hermione.

"Well, think about it. Our first year, Quirrell let the troll in and we set it on you, Hermione—then of course we had to save you—"

She smiled when he grinned ruefully at her.

Harry caught on. "And then in our second year, we were at that dreadful Deathday party, and that same night was when the basilisk first attacked—Mrs. Norris was Petrified—"

"Third year had Sirius try to break into our tower, bless him, and did nothing but slash the Fat Lady's portrait. But then later, he did get into the tower to kill that _rat, _Wormtail, and I thought he was trying to kill me—gave me a right scare—" continued Ron, shuddering at the memory.

"And fourth year was the Triwizard Tournament, and the Durmstrangs and Beauxbatons were there, and the Goblet of Fire picked little old me, and Ron here thought I did it on purpose," said Harry, refusing to look at Ron. He was still a bit miffed at Ron betraying him.

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione lead him away. "And what about last year?"

There was an uproar. At the front of class, two of the runespoor heads gained up on the third one and were trying savagely to bite it off. Hagrid wrestled it back into its crate, sticking each head into its own separate cage.

"Fifth year...I can't really think of anything…. Well, we did have that one D.A. lesson where you gave us those Galleons, and Colin Creevey did that amazing Impediment Jinx and Neville actually disarmed Hermione, and Ginny did a powerful Reductor Curse..." said Ron.

"Hang on, I can," said Harry. "Remember, Ron? We had a Quidditch practice that day, and you fell off your broom, hung by it one-handed, and kicked the Quaffle into the other goalpost! That was brilliant! If only you could accomplish that during a game..."

Ron puffed himself up and smirked. "You see? Every Halloween something happens! I wonder what it will be this year..."

The lesson ended then, and Hermione, Harry, and Ron hung back as everyone else surged past.

While Harry talked with Hagrid about the newly-settled Norberta the Dragon and Grawp, Hagrid's giant brother, Ron sidled up beside Goldeneye in the paddock. Hermione watched him, smiling fondly at the way Ron caressed the long, golden feathers.

_He's really very sweet with him. I can just see him someday with children, stroking his daughter's hair as softly as he's stroking Goldie._

She felt a pang as she realized how much she cared for him, and just how close he had recently been to death. If anything happened to him...

"Knut for your thoughts."

Hermione jumped as Harry snuck up behind her. "Oh...nothing. It's just...he looks so happy with Goldeneye. He deserves to be happy with someone."

"Someone like...Lavender?" he said, glancing at her sideways.

She flinched. "No," she said. "Not like Lavender."

He waited as she had an internal battle with herself.

"Oh, all right, Harry," she said sadly. "Yes, with Lavender. I can't stand her, I think he deserves better...but if he's happy when he's with her...then that's all that matters...isn't it? So...yes, I suppose. With Lavender."

Harry watched her with a look in his eyes she couldn't quite read. "That's kind of you," he said quietly.

They both went back to watching Ron mount Goldie under Hagrid's watchful eye.

"So then...it would make you sad to hear that she broke up with him this morning?" Harry finished.

Hope sailed in Hermione's heart. "Really?"

A grin snuck onto Harry's face. "Really."

Hermione fought to keep the smile off hers. _Lavender broke up with Ron! Lavender broke up...but...oh dear…_

She realized how sad he'd been all day, and her smile dropped. _He must be hurting so much…he really did love being with her…_

_I want to tell him how I feel. I want to just...ignore all my reasons why I shouldn't and just tell him…_

But logic reasoned with her mind, and told her to wait. Just...wait. Wait till he had more time to get over Lavender. Wait for Lavender to heal as well before Hermione betrayed her trust for real.

Merlin, did she not want to wait...

Depressed once again, Hermione checked the time.

"Speaking of being happy," she said, erasing the Tempus. "I have a lesson on Ancient Runes that I need to get to."

Ron, hearing this last, rolled his eyes. "Leave it to Hermione to say she is happiest when she's in class."

"Leave it to Ron to say he is happiest sloughing," Hermione retorted.

"Oh, please, like this is sloughing—"

But he seemed to realize their argument and forgotten rules at the same time she did.

"Arresto," they both said.

"I'm really sorry, Ron," Hermione said, as he drew near. "I didn't mean it. Honestly...you seem happiest when we aren't arguing, if anything."

"You've got that right," said Ron with a snort. "I'm sorry too, though. Although...you really do seem happiest when we are in class!"

Hermione laughed. "I am happy then, yes. You're right."

Looking back and forth between them, Harry looked utterly bemused, like he knew he was missing something but not knowing what. "What...just happened?"

Hermione and Ron stared at each other, not wanting to admit their rules just yet. "Just an understanding," she said, and Ron grinned.

Harry furrowed his brow.

Behind them, Goldeneye started making a fuss because Ron walked away from him.

Hagrid chuckled. "Looks like yer his new buddy, eh, Ron? Griffins are the best creatures to be makin' friends with, I'll tell yeh tha'!"

"You know though...you really should drop it, Hermione," Ron said, walking back over to the fence to scratch Goldie under the chin. The griffin trilled lowly, eyes closed in pleasure. "Then you'd be looking at an hour-long free period like us!"

He leaned back on the fence as if in show of how carefree she could have been. Behind him, Goldeneye nibbled his hair.

"Har, har," said Hermione sarcastically before picking up the books she dropped. "Bite him hard for me, Goldeneye."

Ron snickered behind her, but it was broken off when the griffin pecked him on the rear.

"OI!" he yelled as Harry and Hagrid laughed. "Why're you taking her side then, you traitor?"

Hermione trudged up to the castle wearily. Wearily and hungrily. Her stomach growled from missing a meal, and she cursed herself for not going to the Great Hall with Ginny for lunch when she had the chance.

_Why didn't I? I thought I planned enough time...I suppose I just took too long in my room._

She thought about what Ron had said, even if it had been in jest.

_Why _don't _I take a load off and quit one of my classes? _she thought. _After all, the only free breaks I have are on Fridays. Harry and Ron get one every day. It would be nice to have a free break and not need to use it for homework..._

She thought about this, then sighed irritably_. Oh, fine, maybe on special occasions..._

Even without taking Astronomy and Herbology, her workload was still harder than last year, given the fact that every one of their four main classes were now doubled. That wasn't counting the amount of homework they were given each day and how difficult the work had gotten. Hermione had found that she needed to struggle more and more just to stay ahead of the class.

And now, what with all the attacks, all the fear, all the research, all the tomb-hunting, all the million other things she had to do...

_I could definitely use a break._

Exhaustion set in from the lack of sleep and the never-ending work and research she had to do. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she hurriedly wiped them before anyone in the entrance hall saw. Now wasn't the time to break down. Maybe later. She fiddled with the necklace around her collar bone, something she found she kept doing when anxious.

And all the way down the corridor, her Auror Guard—a female this time named Morwen—trailing behind her, Hermione kept hearing Ron's voice echoing in her head, niggling and spurring her on.

_You should drop it, Hermione. You should drop it. _

After climbing the many staircases till she reached the sixth floor, Hermione turned into the Ancient Runes classroom, Morwen stopping at the entrance, and she went to sit down beside Sally-Anne, her Runes partner, when she stopped, confused.

Michael Corner was sitting in her spot.

"Oh nope, nope! Not today!" cried out Professor Babbling. "Pairing you up differently today! Sally-Anne already has a Ravenclaw partner, Hermione dear, would you mind pairing up with Draco today? We must help the Gryffindors and Slytherins become friends, you must know."

Hermione wanted to drop dead.

Fear, worry, and disgust mingled alike. Draco Malfoy as well looked properly horrified behind his stoic, gray exterior. He was sitting in the small back corner of the classroom, his usual spot, and as he never wanted a partner it was far too cramped there to fit anyone else.

"Excuse me?" she asked, hoping she misheard. Of course, no such luck.

"The Headmaster has asked us to be sure to pair up the different Houses so we can smash out those rivalries, don't you know," said Professor Babbling with a nervous chuckle, drawing another chair in midair. "Sit there with Draco, darling. There's a dear."

Hermione walked over and sat.

It was at once apparent that the both of them were sitting far too close together. Classroom 6A was rather small and they hardly had room enough to move their elbows, let alone breathe. Hermione became very aware that his elbow was touching hers, that she could hear his quiet close-mouthed breaths, that she could even smell his cologne...much less gag at the idea of Draco Malfoy, Slytherin King, wearing _cologne._

"Now, now, we must begin! As you well know," said the professor, beginning the lesson, "the pairing of the polarities is a very wide-spread theory circulating the magical world. Can anyone tell me why this is? Yes, Hermione, dear?"

Hermione put her hand down. Draco looked increasingly annoyed next to her.

_It's not my fault that you never deign to raise your hand, _she thought, before answering. _Or that you aren't bright enough to know the answer in the first place._

Of course, it pleased her far more than she cared to admit that she knew something that Malfoy didn't.

"Polarity gives us a more complex view than a simple binary," Hermione stated. "Some believe that if it weren't for polarity, we would only have synergy and resonance to work with, and according to Pugle's Fourth Hypothesis, those are what the simpler magics and spells are made of. But polarity gives us the more difficult spells, the harmony of dark working with the light, and fire with water, for example. Magic theory, however, cannot prove this to be factual."

"Right! Right, right, of course, did you hear that, class? Now if you look here, yes, here on the board, see? This is the rune for polarity. See how the two sides come together like this..." Professor Babbling continued to tell them all about what Hermione knew already, but Hermione was no longer paying attention.

Draco Malfoy leaned in to her ear, and whispered, "You always have to show off like a fucking prostitute, don't you? What are you trying to prove anyway? That Mudbloods are as good as purebloods?"

Hermione's cheeks grew pink. "Why would I try to prove something I already know to be factual? Just face it, Malfoy. You didn't know the answer and you're just peeved that I did. It's not my fault that I study five chapters ahead and you only study two."

He scowled. "Oh, shut up," he hissed. "You're such an unbearable bitch. Nobody can stand you, you know. With as many times as everyone's tried to kill you by now, one would think you'd get the message and just drop dead to please everyone. At least it would shut you up. It certainly would make me happy. Just _stay the hell away from me!"_

Never before had Hermione been so furious.

She stood up, and Professor Babbling ceased her babbling. Hermione couldn't even see the stares from everyone, tears blurred her vision too much.

She strode right out of the classroom without a backwards glance to the shocked, hateful eyes of the Slytherin behind her.

* * *

Once classes were done for the day, the Gryffindor team set off for their last practice before the big game tomorrow. There was already a light drizzle when Ron opened the great doors and stepped outside onto the cobblestones. Harry and Ginny had already gone on ahead...walking remarkably close together, Ron saw from afar. He'd been too busy trying to find Hermione though, and trailed along dejectedly after them.

As luck would have it, that's when he saw her.

She was sitting by the beech tree beside the Black Lake, knees drawn up and chin resting on them. Surprised and concerned that she was outside in this weather, Ron jogged over to her.

"Hermione! Hermione, what are you doing? Where've you been?"

She didn't say anything.

Worried, Ron sat down beside her and looked in her eyes. She was still wearing her school uniform, he saw, and he wondered why she wouldn't have changed out of it after class like she always did.

"Are you all right?" he tried again.

Still silence.

"We missed you, you know. During lunch."

Not even a glance in his direction.

Frustrated, he sighed. "Do you just want to be alone then? I do have a practice to get to but I didn't want to leave you all alone out here. Where's your guard anyway?"

She still ignored him, and he stood up angrily.

"Fine," he snapped. "Don't accept my help. But you don't have to be rude about it either. Have you forgotten our agreement already? We promised not to insult each other anymore. You ignoring me _is _insulting! Just _look _at me, damn it, and talk to me!"

Hermione's brown eyes flashed over to him as soon as he said it. "Ron, I'm sorry, I really am. I wasn't trying to ignore you. I was just…"

She stood up, face etched with distress. "I quit my class today. I just...I just walked out. I haven't done that since...since...third year. Divination. I was so angry, it felt like my blood was boiling, and I was hot all over, and he is just such a _pig—_"

"He?" Ron asked, confused. "I thought your teacher was—"

"Professor Babbling, yes. It wasn't her fault. She's a dear, although...a little scatterbrained. But I love her, truly. And Ancient Runes. I don't know what...what in the world compelled me to quit! I don't want to drop that class. Not...really."

Ron stepped towards her and sat down on a large rock beside the beech tree. The umbrella charm Hermione had been under welcomed them both. She came next to him, plopping down once more on the tree root she'd been perched on, and turning back towards the lake. They both watched the drizzling raindrops hitting the surface of the dark lake as it spread out before them, far beyond where their eyes could see.

"You said 'he'," Ron realized.

She tensed beside him. "It's nothing. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Yes, Hermione. You should have. Who's 'he'?"

"It's just…" she said, hesitating, then talked rather fast, her face pink. "Professor Dumbledore wants Gryffindors to be paired with Slytherins now apparently, and I got into the class late and everyone else had just been paired up, so the only other one left was him, of course, and so we were paired up and Malfoy was being such a...a...self-righteous _prick_, honestly."

"_Malfoy?"_

"Yes. He said...well...I guess what he said doesn't matter. It was just the usual. 'Mudblood are scum', and all that rot," Hermione said woodenly.

Ron seethed. The fact that Malfoy had been in her Ancient Runes class...that she'd had to sit with him, listen to him, be _alone_ with him…

He saw red.

Fists clenched beside his body, his nails digging into his palms and making indents in his skin, his ears and neck hot with anger, Ron felt like he wanted to punch something. Not something. Some_one. _A slimy, pointed-chin, smug-faced bastard of a someone.

But a cold hand touched his closed fist gingerly, and Hermione's worried eyes were looking into his own. Ron got ahold of his anger quicker than he could ever imagine doing before.

"It's fine, Ron. I was mad and I left. Please, _please, _don't go off and do anything rash," she said.

"I just don't want him near you," said Ron, his voice low. "I know it's not up to me, and you can do whatever you want. I just don't like you being in that class if you're forced to be his partner. I don't trust him in the slightest, Hermione. He tried to drug you! He almost tried to kidnap you! As far as we know, he's behind _all _of this! Behind all the attacks on you, all the ones on me, the one on Harry and _Ginny_, for Godric's sake!"

"I know, Ron," Hermione whispered. She leaned in close to him, their sides touching, and her head laid on his shoulder. "I know."

And he found that he really, _really _liked it there.

"I'm sorry Lavender broke up with you," she whispered.

The heartbreak settled anew in Ron's heart, and his throat constricted painfully as a lump formed in it.

"I'm sorry Viktor broke up with you," he whispered back.

They stared out over the serene lake, watching the sun set over it, painting the already murky sky with hues of orange and yellow, pink and gold. The rain stopped, and the umbrella charm was lifted, but still they just sat together, best friends, watching a sunset amidst a brief respite of the darkness that surrounded them.

And Ron quite forgot to go play Quidditch.

* * *

The morning of the first Quidditch match of the season on the last Saturday in October dawned...probably not so bright. Not raining anymore, which was a beautiful thing to witness after days and weeks of almost constant rain.

But it was definitely windy, which wasn't a good thing. Hermione didn't know much about Quidditch, but she did know that wind = bad.

The gale rattling the window panes in the girls' dorm is conveniently what woke Hermione up before the sun, and she dressed in the half-light into her jeans, boots, bright red blouse, and Gryffindor scarf (in lieu of Gryffindor colors).

Grabbing her purple beaded bag that Hestia Jones had gotten her, Hermione threw in a water bottle, some lip balm, and wondered what else she would need. Most things she could do with a wand, like an umbrella charm and a binocular spell on her eyes so she could try and spot the Snitch.

_Merlin, would my parents be jealous! Packing for a trip to a game with them is a nightmare, honestly. Mum always stuffs the car full of extra things like seat cushions and sun umbrellas and extra sunglasses for any and all weathering events. If the match went on for three weeks straight, Mum would very well be prepared. One time she even brought our sleeping bags!_

Smiling fondly at the memory, Hermione wondered how Mum and Dad were doing in hiding. Was it like Muggle witness protection? Were they even still in the country? Would she be able to go and visit them over Christmas break?

She'd asked the Headmaster about that when he first told her about her parents, and he sadly shook his head.

"I must apologize, my dear, but it would be far too risky," he said somberly. "I can tell you that they are with some very fine Order members. Alastor Moody and Mundungus Fletcher, to be precise. They are extremely good at what they do and are an invaluable asset. Never fear, your parents are in good hands."

That knowledge did sit well with her. She thought rather highly of the real Alastor Moody (that fake one couldn't light a candle to him), and would have picked him to watch over her parents had it been her choice.

Hermione sighed.

Her parents being made to leave the comforts of their homes, their work, their lives, their family...it made this war all too real.

Thoughts turning back to the matter at hand, Hermione grabbed a quill and diary—you never knew how long these Quidditch matches would be and writing in her diary would be a nice way to pass the time if needed—and tossed them into the bag. They clunked around and she grimaced as she remembered Crookshanks' collar was also in the bag.

She still had never found him. Her worry for him grew with every passing day. Knowing her cat, he was probably off still gallivanting in the Forbidden Forest...making friends with werewolf packs and whatnot...

Eyeing the stone tablet on her desk that went with the collar, Hermione wondered if she should bring that too. Perhaps she could try some new spells on it, and see if it still held the remnants of the feline it had been attached to...maybe there was a possibility of chasing Crookshanks down through that way, like the _Priori Incantatem _spell.

She shook her head, and left the stone tablet on her desk. Really, she'd never have time for that today. She'd just need to try that later.

Feeling like she'd taken long enough to get dressed, Hermione tucked her necklace into her shirt and reached for her brown leather jacket, thinking about possibly going for a walk before everyone else woke up.

When she got to the Gryffindor common room, however, she saw with great surprise that Ron and Harry were both as awake, bleary-eyed, and yawn-prone as she was.

"Fancy seeing you two awake at this unholy hour," she said, with a bounce in her step, as she came down the stairs. The boys halted their Quidditch chatter as she came into view, startled by her presence.

"Couldn't sleep," Harry grunted. "Nerves. You know."

She did know. They always flooded her as well when it was a match day. With as many times as Harry's fallen off his broom…

Hermione noticed Ron staring at her. Did her stupid hair manage to spring out of her hair clips again? They were in the shape of brooms. Just a fun way to dress up for her boys. Nonchalantly, she smoothed down her hair and wrapped her Gryffindor scarf around her neck in an infinity loop, ignoring his stare.

"Fancy a walk then?"

They all traipsed out of the common room and down the hall, talking about whether breakfast would be set yet, or if they should steal into the kitchens before going down to visit Hagrid. The match wasn't for two more hours, so whatever activity they could cram into that time, the better it would be for poor Ron who always seemed to let his nerves get the better of him.

In the end, they grabbed a few scones from the house-elves, hanging out for a while, and headed down to Hagrid's hut.

"When're we going to see Norberta anyway?" Ron asked. "I thought Hagrid said he'd be showing her to the classes. That's why Charlie's been visiting so long too. That and...well..Tonks.."

Depression fogged around them, making the air heavy.

"Have you...heard anything?" said Hermione. "Charlie and Tonks were getting rather close. Have you talked with him?"

"Yeah, actually. Charlie and I talked yesterday. Him about Tonks, and me about Lavender. He said she's still unresponsive though. Hasn't woken up. Although she stirs...you know...occasionally."

There was a silence at this.

"That's good," said Harry, trying to be optimistic.

Hermione and Ron nodded, but the faux-brightness didn't quite spread over to them.

"It's November, by the way," said Hermione to Ron after a few minutes of no talking. "Hagrid said. About Norberta."

"Oh. Well. That should be fun then."

She nodded.

And silence reigned some more as they walked out the empty entrance hall and outside the double doors.

When they got to Hagrid's hut, however, he wasn't to be found. _Must be an early riser_, Hermione thought.

Just a note nailed to the door.

" '_Dumbledore, I've gone to show some visitors the cave. Be meeting you there.' " _Hermione read. "Cave? Wait...he must mean the mountain cave that Snuffles showed us in fourth year."

Dismayed, they let themselves into Hagrid's place and played with Fang for a bit and chatted before the fire, listening to the whistling wind. They wanted a jaunt to the cave too, but there wasn't enough time before the match started.

It wasn't too long before the Quidditch trumpets started ringing out in the distance. So off they traipsed up the path that led toward the towered Quidditch stands. The gusty breeze blew Hermione's hair this way and that, and she wished she'd thought ahead and done a bun or plait.

They got to the changing rooms for Harry and Ron to get dressed with the rest of the Gryffindor team. It was Ginny's first match as a Chaser, and she was really green. Hermione felt sorry for her and hugged her good luck.

With nerves and excitement high, Hermione followed the other Gryffindors up to the stands amidst the screaming and the catcalls and raucous laughter. Seventh-year boys pushed her rather roughly as she tried to go around them to the highest wooden bench to sit with Neville. Luna from Ravenclaw and Meghan Freeman from Slytherin soon came to join them.

Viktor flew over to the middle of the pitch, where the Gryffindor red and Ravenclaw blue players were all in their positions, waiting. Hermione's heart started thundering in her chest in worry for not just Harry and Ron, but for Viktor as well. Visions of his tales of the bludger and the beater's bat hitting his head swarmed her thoughts, and she cringed.

Viktor opened the box and the balls shot out of it. He blew his whistle. There was at once a flurry of movement out on the field.

"Aaaaaaand the game, my dear Watson, is on!" shouted Dean Thomas, the new Quidditch commentator, ever the Muggle lover.

Everyone in the stands around her cheered as the Gryffindor team flew around, seamlessly unmatched.

Hermione cheered in her seat beside Neville as half an hour quickly passed, keeping her eyes out for her boys.

"...and Gryffindor Keeper Weasley blocks another goal from the Ravenclaw Chaser Picklesby! What a move! We are still sixty to fifty in favor of Gryffindor! What a close game this is turning out to be..." Seamus Finnegan's Irish voice boomed out over the field from his spot in the commentator's box.

"Quite right you are, Seamus, and now we have the Gryffindor Chasers with the Quaffle—mmm, what fine-looking women those three are—" said Dean Thomas from beside him, then dodged when Professor McGonagall reached over to whack him on the head.

Next to Hermione, Meghan stifled a giggle.

For more than an hour after that, the Chasers kept scoring, and yet Harry, high in the air, never did dive for the Snitch. Hermione grew antsy, wondering where it could be, and tried to find it as well through the binocular spell on her eyes.

"And Ravenclaw Seeker Max Hatter has just spotted the Snitch!" Seamus roared. The crowd around her gasped, and everyone sitting shot up at once to their feet. "Oh wait—no, no, sorry—it seems he mistook a wandering canary for it...well, shite…"

Hermione heard McGonagall shout at Seamus for swearing, but his sentiments weren't far off from what everyone else in the stands was feeling.

_Where, in Merlin's good name, is the Snitch…_

* * *

Harry was beyond perturbed.

He knew there was no Snitch.

Not just from the hours he had spent up in the air on his broom searching for it. As a Seeker, he just...knew these things. Call it sixth sense.

So where the horklump was the damn thing?

* * *

Another hour passed, and yet everyone was still wondering that question. Dean and Seamus had taken to making jokes about it, saying they'd spotted it flying around Snape's ear, only to make Harry and Max Hatter fly careening through the stands and find nothing.

"Well, that's just too bad for Potter and Hatter, isn't Dean?" yelled Seamus gleefully into the megaphone, sniggering at the joke he played.

"Right you are, Seamus, right you are. Though if Hotter and Patter—I-I mean, Potter and Hatter— don't find that Snitch soon, we'll all be out here playing this game well into the night."

Hermione scanned the pitch, getting rather frustrated. After yet another huddle by both teams, she could tell they were getting really tired, almost ready to call on the reserve players.

And then she muttered a spell that would have made even Ron gasp and say "Scandalous!"

She cast a spell that would make her see the Snitch, and only the Snitch. It was outlawed on the grounds, but since she wasn't actually a Quidditch player trying to cheat, it must be all right…it's not like she was going to tell Harry...

For minutes on end, she scoured the pitch. Everything else in her eyesight was gray-black. She should have seen the bright gold of the tiny winged ball within moments, but with trepidation, Hermione realized what had happened.

The Snitch wasn't even on the field.

"Come on ...where is it?" she muttered. "I can't find it anywhere. But that's not possible…"

"The Snitch? No idea, I don't think anybody has seen it all game. It's like someone forgot to let it out of the box…" Neville said.

"That must be what happened...but that's foul play, that is... thanks, Neville!" Hermione touched his arm in gratitude, and took off down the stairs, determined to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

Hovering by the Gryffindor goalposts, Harry and Ron both talked in low voices over what to do.

"I mean...if it really isn't here...we could try calling the match off…" Ron said.

There was a bit of a flurry at the other end of the pitch. The Chasers were all over by the Ravenclaw goalposts. Ginny, Katie, and Maggie McGonagall were having a hard time getting the Quaffle away from the Ravenclaws, as their Beaters kept trying to unseat them.

"But there's no proof," said Harry, frustrated, all the while keeping his eyes glued to the Ravenclaw Seeker. "All the spells we could try are banned on the pitch for cheating. Once the Snitch is let out of the box, there are all these strict rules on tampering with it and trying to summon it. Plus if anyone so much as touches it besides a Seeker, the game is forfeit."

"Then what the hell do we do?" Ron mused. "Has this ever happened before?"

"Not that I've heard...should I tell Krum?"

"No. Just..._no_. For all we know, he's the one who has it. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could hex him."

Harry's irritation at Ron's snub grew.

"You really need to get over him, you know," he snapped. "Dating Hermione is not a crime."

Ron grumbled under his breath. "Yeah, well, dating Krum should be…"

Ron and Harry watched the swarm of Chasers across the pitch climb higher into the air, Ginny suddenly shooting out from all the rest, the Quaffle tucked firmly in her arm.

"Yes!" Ron cheered.

It happened in an instant.

One second, Ginny was soaring almost straight up into the air, two hundred feet above the ground, an elated grin on her face from having successfully wrestled it away from the other team.

The next second, a Bludger was chucked straight at her, and collided into her side with great force, slamming her off her broomstick. And Ginny Weasley was falling.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. A gasp rose up from the crowd as everyone slowly realized what was happening.

Terrified, Harry and Ron could only stare, agape.

And then Harry sprung into action.

He flew over to the other end of the pitch, but he wasn't fast enough.

He urged his Firebolt to go faster, faster, _faster _as he tore across the field. The other Chasers didn't quite seem to know it was happening and _why was no one else trying to catch her?_

_I'm not going to make it in time!_

* * *

Hermione raced down the stairs, then took off down the long, empty corridor to get to the next set of steps.

By the time she got down to the field, she could hear screaming, but her focus on her task at hand was too narrowed. She shot a spell out at the box in the middle of the field with the balls in it. It shot open, and another well-placed spell unlocked the box that the Snitch was kept in.

But nothing came out of it. It was empty.

Confused, Hermione's wand arm fell, her eyes going over to Harry to see if he had noticed.

He wasn't by the Gryffindor goalposts anymore, however. He was flying faster than she had ever seen a person fly before. But why...

She followed his path, and Hermione's heart locked in horror at the sight of Ginny, her best girl friend, falling.

* * *

Harry was too far up, his broom arcing down to follow her trajectory, but she was still fifty feet away, and falling fast—too fast—

He dove headfirst into the gaggle of Chasers, making them scatter like fallen leaves in the wind. Like a bullet, he tore downwards into a steep Wronski Feint, getting closer and closer to her falling body.

Harry flew faster than he had ever flown in his life.

A shriek rose up from the crowd, but the wind was roaring so loudly in his ears he couldn't tell what the commentators were saying or see who was screaming, all he could focus on was his Ginny, _his_ Ginny, his _Ginny_, and getting to her in time.

He was still too far away—she was getting closer to the ground—

_Go faster, faster! Go, go, GO! _He urged his broom, heart in his mouth from such a steep dive—he was going almost straight down—he wasn't going to make it—_he had to make it_—

She was still twenty feet away from him...fifteen...ten..._five_…

The ground came up too fast. In a rush of adrenaline, fear, and terror, Harry let go of his broom and reached out to grab her hand before it was too late.

Screams followed him down—

There was no way he could pull up in time—!

There was a _jerk_—Harry's Firebolt stopped in midair—hovering just above the ground. Harry was dangling from it with one hand, his other arm stretched downwards, and holding Ginny's arm tightly, where she was looking up at him, face whiter and eyes bigger than he had ever seen. The ground was just a mere yard below her dangling boots.

And above him—holding on tightly to his Firebolt, the reason it had stopped so abruptly in midair before he and Ginny crashed straight into the earth—were both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Chasers, collective hands holding on tight to his Firebolt, their faces ashen.

Harry's head spun with dizziness at what had just happened. The crowd around them was screaming, completely beside themselves; even McGonagall had tears streaming down her face.

"DID YOU SEE THAT! DID YOU SEE THAT! HE CAUGHT HER! POTTER CAUGHT WEASLEY! HE CAUGHT HER!" Seamus shouted, face red, jumping up from his seat.

Dean beside him was likewise whooping. "NEVER BEFORE HAVE WE SEEN THE WRONSKI FEINT PERFORMED IN THIS WAY, FOLKS! HARRY POTTER _OWNED _IT! AND DID YOU SEE HOW THE RAVENCLAW AND GRYFFINDOR CHASERS WORKED TOGETHER AS A TEAM, THAT WAS _MAGNANIMOUS! _WHAT POTTER DID, THAT WAS _INCREDIBLE! _WHOO! WHAT A DEATH-DEFYING STUNT!"

"NEVER BEFORE IN THE HISTORY OF QUIDDITCH!" Seamus continued. "CAN YOU HEAR THAT CROWD, THEY ARE JUST GOING WILD! NEVER BEFORE HAS A SEEKER REACHED THOSE TOP SPEEDS AS HARRY POTTER DID JUST NOW!"

"HE MUST HAVE BEEN GOING TWO HUNDRED MILES PER HOUR! _TWO HUNDRED!" _Dean exclaimed ecstatically.

Harry and Ginny were lowered to the ground, where they shakily embraced each other in a tight hug.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered in his ear, the magnitude of her gratitude completely evident. "_Thank you…"_

"I thought we were going to lose you," he whispered back. "I thought…_I thought..._"

The Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Chasers alike were all hugging each other and hugging them, the relief palpable.

And then Harry's lips found Ginny's, and hers found his, and the screams around them grew more intense as they started making out in the middle of the Quidditch field, in the middle of a Quidditch game.

And, probably for the first time in the history of Hogwarts' Quidditch matches, nobody seemed to give a Snidget's arse about the Snitch or who had won.

As far as Harry was concerned…

He had.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**So much that happens in this chapter! Which was your favorite part? The sneaky mention of my birthday? (Chapter 29 had the sneaky mention of my name, you know) The death-defying stunt that Harry pulled? The smidgeon of Dramione I laid down for you? Ron being bitten in the arse? Lavender breaking up with Ron? ****All the Romione ANGST? **

**Leave your favorite parts in the review box below, (and of course what you want to see in the next chapter), and we'll see who can bring this story to 100 reviews! **

**Next chapter? **

**"Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon"...coming to you hopefully before next weekend (fingers crossed)!**


	33. Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon

**NEVER TICKLE A SLEEPING DRAGON**

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned away from the sight of two of her best friends snogging on the Quidditch field. Happiness for them both was prevalent, and she couldn't help but grin.

"Oh, hi, Professor!" Hermione said, noticing Hestia Jones hurrying up to her.

"Hermione, it worked!" Professor Jones was breathless, face flushed, and remarkably excited.

"It..._it worked?"_ Hermione gasped, excited. "The antidote? It was the moonseed, wasn't it! I knew it had to be something so simple as that! The properties of the seed in congruence with the new moon as opposed to the full moon counteract the poison! But could he tell at which phase of the potion's brewing point?"

"Of course he could, this is Severus we are talking about, but he didn't tell me. He was so excited, he left to go tell Remus, so I came to find you," said Hestia.

Hermione grinned. "We have just created the antidote to the Wolflord Potion. It's just...phenomenal!"

"I know!" said Hestia. "And the sample Remus collected from one of the werewolves in Greyback's pack—you know, during that horrifying incident when he encountered a half-transformed wolf on a new moon—well that was really the reason for the breakthrough. And when we discovered that the werewolf's blood was reacting—not to the wolfsbane plant like we had thought—but to the—"

"—the moonseed! I can't believe the answer was right under our eyes this whole time!" Hermione finished the professor's sentence, flushed.

They stared at each other, grinning, as they realized the implications of their discovery. And what this meant to their growing friendship.

Hermione held up her purple beaded bag. "Thank you so much for this bag, by the way, I really do love it."

"You're welcome! It has a recastable Shrinking Charm on it as well, by the way, if you'd like to put it in your pocket instead of carrying it."

"That's so useful! I don't know much about household charms. My parents are Muggles, see, so I only really know what I've read about. Well and with the small bits I've picked up on at the Weasley house. The Undetectable Extension Charm was such a neat idea, where did you come up with it?"

Winking, Hestia replied, "Of all the magical things in the world...I got the idea from Mary Poppins, wouldn't you know."

Hermione laughed.

There was a brief silence as Hermione remembered the issues she had with their Defense professor a few weeks ago, and her resolve after that to just leave the matter alone.

"Professor…" she began.

"Call me Hestia, please," said the professor kindly. "We've been working together as colleagues on this Wolflord business long enough that I believe you've earned the right."

Hermione smiled at the level of trust and respect that Hestia was showing her.

"Hestia, I really owe you an apology. When I came to your office that other week, it wasn't with the best intentions. I didn't trust you. I thought I'd be able to catch you in a lie. I thought you weren't being honest about your past—there were too many contradictions from what I read in your journal with Lily Potter. I guess I wanted to protect Harry from you in case you weren't who you say you were…" Hermione said, faltering in her words.

There was a long pause at this. Hermione risked a glance up to see Hestia studying her, biting her own lip. The other woman looked so young just then. She couldn't have been more than twenty years Hermione's senior.

"Hermione, I…" said Hestia, hesitating. The battle on her face was evident, and Hermione could tell that Hestia knew something she wasn't sure she should say. "You know...you were right. I haven't been entirely honest. There's something I need to tell you. Something I've been keeping from everyone. Something...big."

Hermione froze the smile drifting off her face.

But just as Hestia opened her mouth to talk to her—just as Hermione was ready to listen—

A Patronus, bright and white and silvery, ran up to them. "_Hestia. Come quick. It's urgent."_

The Defense professor's face turned grim and stony once more. "I'm sorry, Hermione, we will need to get back to this conversation. Please excuse me. You'd do best to go back to your seat where you can be with others. Is your guard here?"

Minutely, Hermione nodded, and Hestia Jones took off, following the wolf Patronus.

* * *

Ron stared at the spectacle before him from his viewpoint by the Gryffindor goalposts. Not just at how fast Harry had flown to save Ginny—though if Ron wasn't a fan of Harry's broom and flying skills before, he definitely was now—but in shock at his best friend and his sister downright snogging in the middle of the field far below him.

"That _git_," he said in amazement.

But anger at Harry never surfaced. Perhaps it was the fact that Harry had just saved his sister's life mere moments before. Perhaps it was the fact that Ron had definitely seen this coming. Perhaps it was the fact that both of them had been about as subtle as Dobby with sixteen hats on his head. Or perhaps...perhaps it was the fact that Ron couldn't think of a better bloke for his little sister to date.

Whatever the matter, Ron found that he was actually okay with it all.

But then something happened that was very..._very..._not okay.

Ron heard the first roar before anyone else did.

Perhaps that was because all the other players were at the other end of the field. Or because it was because everyone's eyes were glued to the snogging Harry and Ginny. And yet maybe it was because he was completely at the other end of the field, closer to Hogwarts and the mountains, where the sound came from. It was definitely because he was so high up in the air, and that roar came from very, _very_ high up.

Whatever the reason, that roar scared the shite out of him. He felt very, _very_ compelled to turn around and see what caused it.

It was a dragon.

* * *

When they heard that roar, Ginny's lips broke away from Harry's with a very unattractive noise.

_What now? _Ginny thought irritably. She was completely spent from...what was it...oh, yeah, _falling to her death_ at break-neck speeds. And Harry likewise looked rather exhausted from trying to save his girl from certain death. Couldn't they just catch a break…

She turned around, ready to snap or hex (whichever was quicker, really, her mouth or her wand) at whoever interrupted her and Harry.

When she saw what was in the sky behind her, however, both the hex and the cutting words froze as a new terror gripped her throat.

* * *

When Harry saw the dragon flying towards them from the mountains, he was immediately at a loss.

His first thought was that he'd gone back in time to the first Triwizard Tournament. But no. Not a Hungarian. As it flew closer, he could clearly tell it was a Ridgeback. And it was just as massive.

His second thought was how impressed he was with Hagrid for not only teaching him this stuff, but helping him to retain the information.

His third thought was how furious he was at Hagrid. Because, _of course_, this was Hagrid's dragon.

Norberta had come to play Quidditch.

* * *

Going back up the stairs, Hermione took Hestia's advice and shrunk her bag till it was the size of a Galleon. She stuck it in the pocket of her jacket, then decided against that and decided to stuff it in her sock. One could never be too careful, after all, and it might fall out if it was in her pocket.

Moody's voice filled her mind from over the summer. "_Always be prepared, Granger. Constant vigilance! Make sure you have a backup. And a backup to your backup. And a backup to the backup of your backup! Have every possible outcome in mind and an exit strategy for each. That's the key to living in a war. To fighting in battles. _Constant _vigilance!" _

Maybe she should have bigger plans for her beaded bag. After all, if the worst ever happened and Hogwarts was invaded, she, Harry, and Ron ought to be prepared for fleeing. And if none of the safehouses were safe, if they were all compromised, she really ought to make sure they had the essentials packed and in her bag just in case any of it was needed. Like the four basics: water, food, extra clothes, and shelter.

_What would we do for shelter though?_

She mused on it as she walked, until Hestia's reference to Mary Poppins jogged her mind and she felt stupid for not thinking of it before. A tent, of course. Muggles were always prepared. And didn't the Weasleys have an old tent—

A sound louder than any Hermione had heard before erupted around her.

Hands clamped hard over her ears, Hermione winced in pain. She was on the fourth floor of the empty wooden corridor that circled around the Quidditch stands. Looking out over the opened window rafters for the source of the ominous screech, her jaw dropped open at the sight of the new terror.

Completely stricken with fear at what was transpiring, Hermione hardly noticed when everyone around started screaming as Norberta the Dragon flew into the Quidditch pitch.

And the dragon zeroed in on Ron.

What Hermione did next was completely thanks to her hours of running away from Death Eaters. It didn't matter that she was a hundred yards away. It didn't matter that Norberta might have just been trying to play with Ron. It didn't matter that there were professors gathering up their breaths to possibly do the same thing she was doing.

The need to save Ron, _her best friend_, before anything happened to him was tremendous.

"EXPULSO!"

Her wand out, she shot a powerful expulsion spell that forced Ron away from her and Norberta, just as the dragon gathered up its lungs—the gleaming hot scales on its chest glowing red-orange from the heat of what was gathering therein—and shot out a stream of fire right at the Gryffindor goal posts where Ron had been a second later.

The screams intensified until Hermione's ears were ringing. But she only had eyes for her Keeper.

Her expulsion had propelled him fifty feet away from where he had been, but he still looked alive and safe, across in the Hufflepuff stands, where he'd knocked several of them to the planked flooring.

Hermione's relief was profound.

That is...until Norberta turned on Ron again.

* * *

Everyone went berserk.

Ron groaned, blinking away darkness and dizziness as he found himself not in the air on his broom, but crashed in the stands in a pile of destroyed wooden chunks and moaning people.

He heard screaming and stampeding to get off the stands. Heard First-years crying. Saw professors running over to help, casting spells and curses at the hovering dragon as she beat her wings and alighted on top of the tallest Gryffindor goal post where Ron had been just moments before.

She let out a horrendous roar that deafened his ears.

And then the orange-slitted eyes turned to the Hufflepuff Quidditch stands right onto him.

It was the stuff nightmares were made of.

Ron struggled to get up, as everyone around him was running to the stairs. He was dimly conscious of the blood gushing from his leg, where he had collided into the stands. It dripped down onto the wood below him, then through the cracks of the floorboards. Really, he was only aware of the giant flying lizard in the air not a hundred feet away, narrowed reptilian eyes staring right into him like he'd murdered its family.

The stream of fire that shot straight towards him came without warning.

Ron's wand arm shot up and he shouted the best shield charm he could think of.

"PROTEGO DOMUS!"

It flew up and around him and about fifteen feet of the Hufflepuff stands surrounding him, a ginormous shimmering blue shield, just in time. Red hot fire amassed, completely covering his shield, spreading around it, licking the edges, just feet away from him. The immense heat was astounding, his wand almost catching fire from its close proximity. But his shield held.

The roar of the fire was so great that he couldn't hear the screams and shouts around him. But he could see just how many of the thirty-odd Hufflepuffs he had saved with his quick shield...not to mention his own life. Horror and awe-struck faces around him, all gray and blackened with the soot of the fire, stared at him; disbelief, relief, and fright written clearly on them.

But the dragon looked furious that its fire had not done the deed. She coiled her legs, as if in preparation for a leap, and took off into the air again, flying in circles high above his head.

Ron's wand arm wavered in his struggle to keep the massive shield up, dread dropping his stomach. What the bloody hell was that dragon going to do next?

And why the bloody hell did it want _him?_

* * *

Everything was chaos.

The unfinished match was all but forgotten as the Quidditch players all dove for cover, eyes staring up at the dragon fearfully. Any curse or hex thrown by the professors seemed to just slide right off the powerful scales, its hide too thick to penetrate.

Norberta was still focused on Ron, not seeming to care about the rest of the stands or the Quidditch players, or even the few people who had tried braving the open grass between the pitch and the castle. She took notice of them and sent a stream of fire towards them, but not much effort was put into that as the runners were too far away and the flame barely licked their shadows. All she wanted was Ron.

Harry had to do something.

A plan formed in his head, and he hopped back onto his broom, trying to organize the rest of the players, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw alike.

"We have to get everyone to safety!" he shouted to them as they all gathered around him.

Eyes cast warily about as the dragon still flew high above their heads, circling the entire pitch now like a giant green vulture. Spewing small bits of fire like spit balls, still directed at Ron and the cowering Hufflepuffs. Most just dissipated in the air, but several landed on different sections of the stands, terror breaking out amongst the students as they all tried to stampede down to the lower sections of the wooden stands.

Harry turned back to the twelve Quidditch players hovering in the air next to him.

"Beaters, I want you to use the Quaffle and Bludgers to take the dragon out. Be careful of the fire! Chasers, I want all of you to chase her away. Use spells. Try to make her go back to the mountains," Harry commanded. The Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors nodded stoically.

Harry told the Ravenclaw keeper to fly around and rescue anyone in need of rescuing. And to Viktor Krum flying past them, Harry commanded to cast shields over the people escaping the stands. The older boy nodded and flew off to obey. The others all followed suit, but Harry pulled Ginny back before she could take off.

"Ginny, I need you to go save Ron! Get him and protect him _at all costs,_ do you understand?"

Taken aback by the ferocity in his eyes, the red-haired witch nodded in alarm. "Why does the dragon want Ron?" she breathed.

"I don't know!" Harry exploded, grief-stricken. "But I do know that Voldemort wants him. He probably used his spy to bewitch Norberta somehow. Cursed her to want to leave Hagrid's cage and go after Ron. And then let her loose when they knew Ron—and _everyone_—would be out."

Ginny's face turned dead white. "You think V-Voldemort's behind this?"

"Yes, Ginny," said Harry impatiently. Another shriek of rage emitted from the circling dragon. They were fast running out of time. "Voldemort is after Ron and Hermione to get to me. He might even be here now too!"

The horror and fear on her white face mirrored everything Harry was feeling. But they didn't have time for this now.

Harry shouted, "You have to go save him _now_, Gin! We have to get him away from the Hufflepuffs so Norberta stops targeting them too. Can you do it? Or do I need to go find someone else?"

Ginny stuck a determined look on her face and mounted her broom again. "No. I can do it. But what about you, Harry?"

"Don't worry about me!" Harry said as he took off. "I'm going to take care of the dragon."

* * *

Hermione was in a panic.

She had to get to Ron. She had to save him. But he was across the _entire bloody pitch_, and there were a thousand people in between her and him.

Add to the fact that it was her job to make sure the Gryffindors were safe. She was a prefect, after all. Ron couldn't bloody well do it. Ginny as a Chaser was occupied, as was the other fifth-year prefect, Tobias Rosier, who was a Beater. That left just Hermione and the two seventh-year prefects, Romulus Vane and Helga Higginbotham. And Cormac McLaggen, of course, the Head Boy.

The stampede for the stairs knocked her down several different times, but her quick shield saved all those around her from the worst of being trampled on in their rush to get to the safety of the lower rafters of the stands.

She was able to find Romulus and Helga with no problem, and they both started shouting at everyone to follow them.

"Gryffindors! Follow the Prefects! Be careful! Cast your shield charms! _And help those around you!"_

They kept telling everyone not to panic, to walk nicely and file out of the stands one at a time, and to cast a shield charm above their heads for protection from the dragon's spitfire.

Hermione looked around for Cormac, frustrated. Why wasn't he helping?

Taking off down the stairs from the stands, Hermione went to herd the last of the Gryffindors. She followed along after the last of them, down the first staircase and then through the long corridor to get to the other staircase to the next level. Wooden planks were all around her, but there were openings that she could still see that Norberta was still high in the clouds, trying to fight off the Quidditch players attacking her. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams flew about her, trying to drive her away while they saved the Hufflepuffs.

Meanwhile, most all of the Hogwarts students were being evacuated. Neville was far ahead, helping to get the last of the students down to the rafters below, the safest place from the rampaging dragon.

Her eyes searched frantically for Viktor, and finally spotted his black and white robes on the road to the castle, helping shield students. A breath of relief that she only had two boys to worry about now, instead of three, came gushing out. Viktor would be safe over there, Ron was getting help in the stands, and Harry was being the hero, per usual, leading his two teams of broom-wielding flyers in the chase for the dragon.

An engulfing shadow loomed overhead and she glanced up, wand poised, as Norberta made another round, trying once more to get to Ron and the Hufflepuffs.

She had to hurry.

Students were spilling out on the Quidditch pitch several floors below her, running out on the grass, trying to get out of the dragon's way. Norberta let out her fire at them, and screaming could be heard, although most were able to put their own shields up in time.

They had to get rid of the dragon, and _fast_.

* * *

Neville wanted to help.

He knew Gryffindor was out half of their prefects, so he helped get the Gryffindors to safety. But as the last of them started clearing the stairs, he glanced up at the dragon, and knew more help was needed with her.

Norberta swung low over his section of the stands, and he ducked as she spit out a few fireballs for the fun of it.

Well, she wasn't the only one who could have fun.

Casting a few sparks at the dragon, as he had seen other professors do, Neville tried to dislodge Norberta from her sinister quest. It was to no avail, however, as Norberta just circled around and went back to attacking the Hufflepuff stands.

He had to protect the Hufflepuffs.

Neville cast the binocular charm on his eyes that he'd seen Hermione do. He looked over at the Hufflepuff stands and saw with the enhanced vision that Ron's shield was now being held up by Professors Sprout and Flitwick, who had joined him. More fire came at them, and they dove for cover, holes appearing in the shield from the force of the offending magic laced in the dragon's flame.

_I have to do something! _he thought, uselessness gripping him again. _But spells don't work on the dragon. Only…_

Inspiration struck.

_...only on the air around her! That's it! Instead of aiming our attention at the dragon itself, we should manipulate the particles around her to create the obstacles needed to stop her! But what obstacles would stop a beast that ginormous? And that magically-charged?_

Spells paraded one after another in his mind. Fire to stop it, black cloud to confuse it, a shield charm around it. Perhaps vines shooting up and around her limbs entangling her.

He tried them all. But after casting one spell after another, none of them stopped Norberta for good. They only momentarily hindered the dragon.

Neville was running out of ideas.

_Come on...come on...think...what would Harry do?_

In a last-ditch attempt to help, Neville cast the Patronus Charm. His spirit-badger scrambled through the air, racing across the pitch and climbing up the dragon's tail and back in fury.

Sensing the animal attacking her, Norberta screeched and took off high into the air, writhing as the little white Patronus scurried around her.

Neville's jaw dropped.

It was _working._

Others saw his efforts, and more white Patronuses joined his. No spells were working against the winged beast, but at least the Patronuses were casting the dragon away from the Hufflepuff stands, where the students were still trapped.

Elated, Neville turned back to help the students again.

* * *

Harry soared through the sky, smells of burning wood and smoke thick in the acrid air.

The Chasers performed their task wonderfully, nipping behind Norberta and aiming strikes at her flanks in their efforts to drive the dragon away from the Quidditch pitch.

Through the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny tear through the air, sliding under Ron's shield to get to him.

Relieved that Ginny was, for now, safe, Harry swerved in front of the dragon's view, trying to entice her. He needed her to give up Ron.

At first it seemed to be working—she definitely thought Harry might be fun to play with—but the moment she saw Ginny fly off on her broom in the opposite direction with Ron behind her and holding on tight around her waist, Norberta saw red.

Harry cursed and took off after Norberta, as she launched her unfair war on the youngest Weasley brother with an undignified screech.

_What the hell is going on?_

* * *

Ginny's triumph at rescuing her brother from the big, bad dragon was squelched when she heard its shriek of rage. The dragon advanced on them as they raced through the air.

She flew faster than she'd ever flown in her life, dodging streams of fire as she flew. One hit the Gryffindor Quidditch stands, and she sincerely hoped everyone had made it out of there safely.

If she and Ron escaped this unscathed, she reasoned, Ginny definitely deserved a medal for the best flying Hogwarts had ever seen.

_Harry and his 'death-defying stunt' be damned._

The boy she silently cursed, however, was busy with his own great flying. He flew about Norberta tantalizing her, baiting her not unlike he did the Hungarian Horntail in her third year. But none of it seemed to be working.

Norberta let out a hiss of fire, and Ginny screamed as it grazed them.

Ron held onto Ginny tightly, muttering about everything being his fault.

"Stop it, Ron!" she finally snapped. "It's not your fault Voldemort's after you. It's not your fault that a great, bloody dragon is after you. Now stop your whinging and hold tight! We're about to dive!"

And dive, they did. Leading the dragon away from the Quidditch pitch.

But the dragon still stayed hot on their tail.

Then Ginny saw something that made it all better. Quidditch players were now all over the field, far more than just the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor teams. But they were bigger and burlier and their clothes were wrong.

It was Charlie and the Romanians.

* * *

The Gryffindor Quidditch stands were now on fire.

Screaming began anew as the stampede to the second set of stairs grew, but Hermione turned to the fire behind them.

"Aguamenti! _Aguamenti!"_ She shrieked at the flames, water shooting out and dousing them.

Taking several deep breaths, Hermione tried to relax, telling herself it would be all right. They would come out of this alive, just as they'd done with every bad thing that happened. She would get everyone out in time. She had to.

And where the hell was Cormac McLaggen? She scanned the crowds for him, but couldn't find him. She only hoped he was being useful somewhere and not just covering his own hide.

She must be the last one out of the top section of the stands. The rest of the students were all in front of her, and fire and smoke were now filling the air. Black smoke filled her nostrils, her eyes watered and burned, and she wet her Gryffindor scarf to her mouth, trying to outrun the smoke that was still licking at her boots.

It was as she was turning the corner that she saw it.

A cloaked form slumped to the ground at the corner of the stairs. She ran over to the fallen student and turned him over.

It was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

It was like something out of a playbook.

Ron and Ginny flew from the pitch, high in the air, keeping Norberta's sights on them instead of the running people below. On either side of them, the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Beaters soared, whacking the bludger between them, entertaining the dragon enough that she wasn't blowing fire at Ron. The Chasers flew on the sides trying to block her in with help of blocking spells. The Ravenclaw Keeper and Seeker flew from below, hitting her with Patronuses to keep her from diving. And Harry flew behind, shooting sparks from his wand to get her to keep flying in front and not turn back to the Quidditch pitch.

Harry heard a noise behind him, and saw Charlie and the Romanians soaring after them, trying to catch up with their dragon.

"All right, there, Harry?" Charlie shouted, with a grim smile.

Harry grinned. "Lost a dragon?"

Charlie and his teammates flew faster and shot over Harry's head, shooting out what looked like lightning spells at different points of Norberta's wing joints. She shrieked in rage at first, but Charlie used some sort of whistle to call out a crooning dragon call, and Norberta at once started trilling with her tongue in a seemingly flirtatious way.

The sight of Norberta flying now almost contentedly, with the lightning chains going towards her and guiding her, and the arrangement of Quidditch players all around her, was actually rather spectacular.

"You know, you and your team would be amazing dragon keepers!" Charlie said, dropping down beside Harry. "Fancy a summer job?"

Harry's grin grew wider as he thought about dragon training as a side job.

But Charlie quickly sobered up. "Actually, though, someone broke her out of hiding, and cursed her. Very, _very_ Dark magic, messing with a dragon's brain. We have to get her back to the cave. But I can take it from here, Harry. Thanks for catching her for us!"

With the chains of lightning shooting from their wands, Charlie and the Romanians took over and were able to lead Norberta gently away from them and into the mountains.

Harry slowed to a halt next to Ron and Ginny, and the other Gryffindors and Ravenclaws followed suit, the Quidditch players around him all cheering at the safe capture of the dragon.

Several of his teammates patted him on the back.

"That was brilliant, Harry!"

"We got her! And just in time, too!"

But Harry's face was grim as he turned back to the Quidditch pitch, where smoke billowed into the air and several stands were still on fire. Then he glanced below him at the still stampeding people, trying to get out of the stands and the pitch.

"Our job's not done yet," Harry called out, the obvious leader of their group. "Let's get back to work! Save who you can, and put out the fires!"

Fourteen players flew back into the smoky fray.

* * *

Indecision gripped Hermione, but only for a second. Of course she wasn't going to leave Draco Malfoy here to be burned to death. Nevermind that he wasn't even supposed to be in the Gryffindor stands to begin with…

"_Rennervate!"_

It didn't work.

She shook him, hard. "Malfoy, wake up..."

His ashen eyes remained closed, his blond hair no longer slicked back, but falling boyishly onto his forehead.

Trying other waking spells she could think of to no avail, Hermione was at a loss as to what to do. She couldn't just leave him there…

Plus there was the fact that if those spells couldn't wake him, that must mean he was under a Dark curse, not unlike what Ron had been under at the start of term when the double-wanded Death Eater was after them.

Foreboding gripped her.

It couldn't be an accident that the Snitch was stolen, that Ginny was made to fall off her broom, that a dragon was unleashed on the school, and all this was happening at the same time as a Slytherin was found unconscious with a Dark curse on him.

Something was wrong.

"_E-expecto patronum,"_ she whispered, and sent her Patronus out in search of Professor Snape, Malfoy's head teacher, with explicit instructions to let him know of his favorite student's predicament.

_Professor Snape will know what to do, _Hermione thought in satisfaction, her trust for their Potions teacher shining forth.

She raised her wand, keen on trying out the Mobilicorpus spell that Moony used on Snape in her third year. But then the dragon shrieked outside, and Hermione had an idea. The irony was not lost on her as she cast the Tickling Charm on the 'sleeping' Draco.

It worked.

His eyes shot open, his arms grabbed her, and before she could protest, he had knocked her backwards and climbed on top of her, wand digging into her throat, his weight pressing down onto hers.

Hermione gasped for breath, trapped under the half-conscious Slytherin in fear.

But his eyes were glazed over. He wasn't fully himself.

"Draco!" Hermione gasped, his first name coming to her lips as easily as if they had been friends for years instead of foes. "Draco, wake up!"

But it worked. Hearing his first name broke through the cloudy haze covering his cursed gray eyes. As he stared down at her, he seemed to slowly realize who she was, and recognition alighted his features.

"G-Granger?"

He shot off of her as quickly as if he'd been touching flames, and Hermione coughed as they both stood. His wand did not leave her, however, and she quickly trained a mistrusting wand on him as well.

"Did you attack me?" he snarled in fury.

"Of course I didn't attack you," she gasped. "I tried to save you. You were hit with a Dark curse. I was only just able to wake you…"

Malfoy's eyes jerked around them, scouring the smoky haze for his unknown assailant. "Did you see who did it? Who cursed me?"

"N-no. There was no one there…didn't _you _see who cursed you?"

"No...he came at me from behind. But it was definitely male. I heard his voice."

He looked quite frightened, the usual sneer adorning his features completely absent. Without it, he looked rather young and innocent...handsome, even…

_Ew, Hermione, stop that._

His wide, expressive eyes turned to hers.

But the Quidditch stands shook just then, and they both grabbed the pillars beside them for support. The smoke in the corridor billowed in from a new bout of flames, and she knew they couldn't just stand there talking.

But what he said next shook her.

"Look, Granger, it wasn't an accident!" Draco Malfoy raved, seeming relieved that someone was finally listening to him. Even if it was a Gryffindor Muggle-born. "Someone wanted this to happen, Granger! All of this!" he said.

Indecision tore through her. Of course she knew something was going on, but what did he know? "What do you mean?" she asked, guarded, wand still trained on him.

"Granger, use your brain!" he snapped. "Somebody stole the Snitch so that the match would be prolonged. Somebody sicced the dragon on Weasley. Somebody cursed the She-Weasel to fall off her broom so the crowd's screams would attract the dragon to the Quidditch pitch. And that same somebody cursed me because _I figured it out._"

Smoke billowed around the corner. They didn't have much time. They had to get out of there.

"Protego!" she said, casting the protection around them to stop the smoke from reaching them.

It worked. Hermione turned back to Draco, prodding him for information. "And why would they do that? What could they possibly get out of Norberta killing Ron? I thought Voldemort wanted him alive, not dead?"

His eyes grew hard and foreboding.

"To get to you."

Draco Malfoy took a step towards her, and Hermione suddenly didn't quite know if he was a friend warning her...or a Death Eater trying to fulfill his Master's dark deed. Did he curse himself to draw her in?

"Voldemort wants you. And he will stop at nothing to get you," Draco Malfoy said, rather menacingly. He advanced slowly. "That's why he has tried. Again, and again, and _again."_

Hermione prided herself on being quite clever. But his words were foggy in her brain and although she had most of the puzzle pieces, she just couldn't make the connection.

"But...but that doesn't make any sense," she whispered. "Why curse a dragon and sic it on Ron only to come after me instead of Harry? If he was after Ron and me just to get to Harry, then why go after us at all when Harry is out there, exposed? Why not set the dragon after Harry instead? Why would he want me or Ron at all when he could have Harry?"

Draco Malfoy sneered. "Whoever said the Dark Lord only wants you just to get to Potter?"

Hermione eyes widened.

He advanced towards her and, in her fear, Hermione turned around to run—to get as far away from him and this whole messed-up situation as possible. Her feet carried her several steps away—

"_Imperio!"_

—but the spell hit her back, and stopped her in her tracks.

And Hermione quite forgot all of it.

* * *

When the Imperius Curse hit the Mudblood Granger, Draco Malfoy could not believe what was happening.

It wasn't him that had cast it. Hell, it wasn't even a Slytherin.

It was Cormac McLaggen, a bloody Gryffindor. _And _Head Boy.

"What the…"

When McLaggen snuck up behind Draco and aimed that spell at Granger, Draco hadn't even known he was there.

"What the hell are you—" said Draco, aghast.

The Unforgivable Curse hung misty in the air between McLaggen's wand and Granger, like a thick rope binding her to him.

_I can't believe McLaggen just...what the hell is he…_

The girl in front of them had her back turned to them, just stopped in the middle of the burgeoning smoke.

"_Turn around,"_ said McLaggen.

Draco watched, alarmed, as she turned around and stared right past them.

"Good girl," McLaggen appraised her. Like she was his pet. "Now. _Come to me."_

Draco stared as the golden-haired Gryffindor Head Boy in front of him commanded Hermione Granger, the reigning Gryffindor Princess, to do his bidding. And she obeyed. Her footsteps brought her closer to them until she was mere inches from McLaggen, looking up at him with a robotic, vacant expression.

Normally, Draco didn't make it a point to stare at Hermione Granger—the arrogant know-it-all that she was—but even he knew the glassy appearance over her normally brown eyes was unnatural. He had seen the Imperius many a time in his life. It was a favorite amongst the purebloods after all. But seeing it performed on the one person in the school who made his academic life a living hell seemed just so..._wrong._ And seeing her in such a state—so passively obedient and demurely compliant like how his father always wanted Mudbloods to behave—when she was so obviously being forced to...and without her own knowledge either…

It was sickening.

But McLaggen wasn't through with her.

"_Walk to the tower," _he hissed at her with a grin.

Then she walked past them, her face stoic and emotionless, down the corridor. Draco followed her and the Head Boy, stunned at what was happening, through the eye-watering smoke, until they all came upon the tower's opening. This tower was untouched by flames for the moment, but Draco worried about staying too long.

The Quidditch tower…the one where the Gryffindor Quidditch team soared out from at the beginning of every game. Nearing the top of the tower, about equal in height to the rest of the higher box-stands, was the opening he'd seen Potter and Weasley at numerous times as they got on their brooms and took off into the air. It was so high up…

"_Go to the top of the tower."_

She climbed the stairs to the tower, and they followed her, up the steep stairs.

When they finally reached the top, they were standing on a platform facing the two openings—one that opened right onto the Quidditch pitch with no railing, just a sheer drop for the players to dive off of. And the opening opposite that one faced the back of the pitch, looking out over the Forbidden Forest.

McLaggen was beside himself with glee.

"Look, Malfoy, we can make her do anything. _Anything. _Name it, and she'll do it…" said McLaggen, sharing his good fortune.

Draco couldn't take his eyes off her, but he finally made himself tear his gaze off her back and towards the boy next to him. A nasty glint had appeared in the Gryffindor's eyes, matching the sneer overcoming his features.

_How the hell did a goody-two-shoes Gryffindor get so dark? _Draco thought wildly_. Does he work for the Dark Lord? Is he a Death Eater?_

But he hardly dared to ask him. This new development was startling. Draco didn't know a thing about this situation. What McLaggen was planning. How far he was willing to go. Who was commanding his actions—the Dark Lord? Or his own?—and whether McLaggen would follow through or make his own embellishments. Whether Granger's life was at risk. Whether Draco even cared...

And most importantly, what this meant for Draco and his own mission.

Hermione was stopped right in front of them, waiting for her next command. McLaggen walked around her left, while Draco stepped around her right side.

"Now…" McLaggen hissed into her ear. "_Go to the edge."_

* * *

The most calm, peaceful, and serene feeling flowed throughout her. An enormous weight had been lifted, and she knew that everything would be all right. Everyone was fine. Outside, everyone else was rushing out of the burning stands and onto the Quidditch pitch, but she didn't see the rush.

Didn't they know everything was wonderful?

She relaxed the stiff muscles in her shoulders, wand arm drooping, her booted feet feeling at the same time both sluggish and yet weightless. Why had she been going to the stairs with everyone else?

_Go to the edge._

Yes...walk to the edge...that's what she wanted to do...

Alone, she felt prompted to walk to the edge that was facing the Forest. Behind her was the entire Quidditch pitch spread out, the chaos of it all unfolding. But in front of her was...peacefulness. The beauty of the Forest stretched out in dark green velvety waves, rolling over the hills and up the mountains. A corner of the Black Lake could be seen, its waters like glass, unrippling and undisturbed by the chaos of the dragon and the fires and the screaming crowds.

There was a quiet beauty and serenity here. Nobody could see her over here. It was just her and that voice.

Her Master.

* * *

Fear for the girl bubbled unbidden in Draco's chest, and he hardly had time to posit a theory as to why he was worried about a _Gryffindor _of all people, before he knew he had to act.

"_Closer...closer...to the edge…"_

Hermione Granger meekly obeyed the Slytherin, and walked closer to the edge, where certain death awaited her. She swayed in the strong breeze, her body teetering towards the emptiness, her toes going over—

And Draco Malfoy knew he had to save her.

He found his opening when McLaggen took a step towards Granger and away from Draco. The stupid pompous Head Boy didn't seem to think Draco was a threat—after all, the Malfoy family should have been pleased that McLaggen was taking care of a thorn in the Dark Lord's side. But Draco knew this wasn't the objective, running her off the tower.

He knew she was wanted alive.

Wand up, he cast the first curse he could think of.

* * *

Closer, she stepped to the edge.

There was a scuffle behind her as someone joined her Master. His voice left her mind. He was fighting with someone...but she didn't really care to look. He would join her shortly and show her what she must do next.

Her boots stopped right at the edge. A gust of breeze pushed at her.

Heart elated, Hermione felt like she was soaring.

Sounds of the fight behind her were no more. Silence reigned again. She chanced a look back to see what had happened to her Master.

He was standing over the white-haired boy, who lay rigid on the floor, eyes staring straight back at her with fear and fury, alive and aware of what was happening...but petrified.

Her Master turned back towards her, and strode closer till his body was pressing up against her own.

Hands behind her took the wand out of her fingers. Then they closed about her shoulders and gently unwrapped the scarf around her shoulders, exposing her neck. Her brown jacket was the next to go, fingers tracing down her arms as he took the jacket off her.

She let him take it off till she was free of it, breeze tugging her red blouse around her. She welcomed the wind.

Everything was going to be all right. Instead of heartbreak and worry, she was free from all of it. Careless and carefree, she leaned out over the edge. Her honeyed curls flitted about her in the breeze, and she breathed in the crispy cool autumn air as she leaned out.

_Now…_

_Jump._

Jump?

_Yes...jump..._

The will to obey drove her forward till she was leaning out over the precipice.

But...she was so high up. More than a hundred yard drop. There were rocks below her and a steep descent from where the hill the Quidditch pitch sat on zigzagged sharply away.

Death awaited the fall.

_Yes...do it...jump…_

Through the peaceful sensations, an odd feeling came through, and she second-guessed the voice.

Why?

Why would he ask her to jump?

She looked down, no longer feeling that relaxation. She had a fear of heights for a reason. She didn't want to jump.

Her brow furrowed, confused as to how she even got here. Taking a step back, fear sliced through the calm, floating sensation she had previously felt.

Hermione blinked.

She'd been under the Imperius Curse, she realized. Someone had cast an Unforgivable Curse on her. And she was thinking clearly now, which meant...he had either lifted it off her...or she had broken it through sheer willpower.

Someone cast the Imperius on her and drove her here.

Shaking in a way that had nothing to do with the cold chill, Hermione took a step back from the ledge.

But that someone was right behind her.

Whirling around, Hermione gasped when she saw Cormac McLaggen standing mere inches away from her.

"C-Cormac?"

This was beyond surreal.

_The Head Boy?_

"Did you…"

_Imperius me? But no...surely it was Draco Malfoy._

His grin widened. "Why so surprised? Surely you didn't think I was after you for your beauty?"

The insult stung.

_What...the...hell…?_

A shuffle behind him. Hermione looked over to see Draco Malfoy on his side facing her, petrified on the wooden floorboards, eyes wide, seeing all but with no power to move. And on the floor beside him lay her scarf, jacket and wand, now smeared with blood, as was the floor around her and even Draco himself. The stench of it was heavy in the air.

She was not called the "Know-It-All Mudblood" by the Slytherins for nothing.

Really, it didn't take a genius to figure out what Cormac McLaggen had planned. He would get off scot-free, she realized with trepidation. All he'd had to do was lure her and Draco to the tower together. Make it look as if Draco went on a rampage and tried to kill her, leaving behind the blood and her things as proof. Cormac probably planned for everyone to either find an unconscious Draco amidst the blood and throw him straight in Azkaban...or for the fire to burn most of it and piece together the next plausible outcome when they discovered Draco's burnt corpse.

Either way, she would either be hand-delivered to Voldemort by the Head Boy himself (or whoever Cormac had planned to help him)…or she would be dead at the bottom of the tower. Either way, she would be dealt with. Either way, she would cease to become a thorn in Voldemort's side. Either way...the message would be undoubtedly clear to Harry that nobody he loved was safe, that Voldemort held an unswaying power over him, that Harry and his friends were as good as dead...and that Voldemort reigned supreme.

But she still had to give Cormac McLaggen some serious props for the orchestration of the cursing of the dragon. That took some serious skill.

"You are far too damnable for your own good, Granger," said Cormac, a hard look now in his eyes. He took a step towards her. "You know, it's a pity you broke the curse. This would have been easier on you. I suppose I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."

Before she could raise her hand—before she could move—before she could breathe—before she could even look at who was now standing behind Cormac—

Hands shoved her backwards.

Hermione fell.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Dun dun DUN!**

**Leave a review! Thanks for getting this story over 100 reviews so far! I love hearing your insight! And come on...who guessed Cormac?**


	34. Death Awaits the Fall

**DEATH AWAITS THE FALL**

Ron saw it all.

From high above, he saw the opening in the Gryffindor Quidditch tower, now ablaze. He saw a boy holding his wand to a girl, and her on the edge. Already Ron and Ginny were heading over, knowing it couldn't be good. But then he saw the girl was Hermione, her red shirt standing out against the dark alcove, and his heart leapt into his throat.

"Ginny, GO!" He roared.

Seconds later, Ginny reached the tower's landing and Ron leapt from her broom, running over to Cormac, but the moment his feet touched the floor, Cormac pushed her.

Hermione fell, disappearing from view.

"NOOOOO!" Ron roared, shouting and running and he couldn't breathe couldn't breathe couldn't breathe—

Fear completely emasculated him, clawing up his body and tearing his insides apart. His bloody leg ceased its burning pain and became quite numb. He didn't know what the hell was happening, but the fear of Hermione's pronouncement about Voldemort wanting them just weeks before had filled him with nightmares ever since. It couldn't happen..._it couldn't happen…_

Ron ran over to the edge where he'd seen Hermione last, leaping over the bloody body on the floor, looking over with terror—

—he whipped his wand out—the spell on his lips to stop her body from falling—

She wasn't there.

Relief, confusion, and horror at once overwhelmed him. Relief that Hermione didn't just fall to her death. Confusion that he couldn't find her. And terror that if he couldn't find her, that meant she was...

"Where did she go?" he gasped. "HERMIONE!"

She wasn't anywhere on the ground below that he could see. The Forbidden Forest, maybe? But how would she have gotten from the pitch to the Forest so fast? Wildly, he looked in the skies to see if maybe she was taken there by some unknown force instead.

Where where where—

Ron whirled around and grabbed Cormac McLaggen by the shirt.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" Ron roared into McLaggen's face.

Cormac looked scared, and Ron brought his fist back before landing it with a sickening crack right into the Head Boy's face. The pompous Gryffindor hunched over, blood flowing out of his nose.

"Come now, Weasley," Cormac wheezed, "Surely you know by now that servants of the Dark Lord never work alone. _He_ told me to do it."

"WHO?" Ron shouted, completely beside himself. "TELL ME WHO HAS HER!"

Cormac McLaggen wasn't so keen on telling him, however. "He said he would take care of you by siccing the dragon on you. Said he'd take care of Potter by making the She-Weasel fall to her death. Said all I had to do was bring the Mudblood to this tower...and he would take care of the rest."

Ron roared. "TELL ME WHO, YOU BLOODY BASTARD!"

The bloody, whitened face of the foul little prick in front of him split into a sadistic grin. There was blood completely covering his teeth.

"_Dolohov."_

* * *

Harry had been flying around, dousing fires, when he came upon the tower and noticed the dangerous scene before him—Ginny standing next to a fallen Malfoy, Ron kneeling over another bloody boy and beating him to a liquidated mess, wand forgotten on the wooden boards beside him.

Flying towards them, Harry was quick to dismount.

But the blood… the blood smeared around the place made Harry just about vomit.

And when he saw Hermione's things next to Malfoy—who, oddly enough, was not the one Ron was pummeling—Harry realized what must have happened. The sickest wave of nausea engulfed him, and he stumbled to the corner and threw up.

He had flown right into a nightmare.

"R...Ron…" he said weakly, moving forward to grab Ron's arm before he did something he really did regret. Harry had to give him props for resorting to the Muggle form of dueling, but if Harry didn't stop him now—

"Get _off_, Harry—" Ron snarled.

"No, Ron, get away from him—"

"But he—_he_—"

"I know, Ron, but we have to tell someone—"

"I DON'T BLOODY CARE! HE PUSHED HER OFF! I CAN'T FIND HER, AND HE _DID SOMETHING TO HER—!"_

"THEN WE HAVE TO GO FIND HER!" Harry finally shouted, jolting Ron to his senses. Harry was taken aback by Ron's shouting, but it honestly mirrored Harry's feelings exactly. "The longer you spend hitting him, the longer it will take to find her! We have to go and tell someone—get _help_—"

"I-I-I'll go," Ginny whispered, visibly shaken. She took off, leaving Ron there without a broom.

"Dolohov took her…" a weak Ron said, his voice dripping with grief and exhaustion. He sat back, away from the now-unconscious form, and Harry saw with stunned disbelief that it was the Head Boy. "McLaggen s-s-said he pushed her off the tower s-so Dolohov could snatch her without anyone seeing. But he won't tell me where...he won't tell me _where Dolohov is taking her_…"

"Then we'll find out for ourselves," Harry said grimly. He cast his wand-arm towards the castle, hoping against hope that this would work. "ACCIO MAP!"

* * *

It was hopeless.

They searched for hours.

They scoured the Forbidden Forest.

The Aurors were called in.

The Order was called in.

All the teachers knew.

The Castle was on a strict lockdown.

Nobody could find her.

And Ron was sick to his stomach.

Cursing again, he just couldn't get over how blindsided they'd been. What kind of person went to such lengths to cook up such an elaborate scheme? What kind of monster would set a dragon off on people? Or push someone off an _effing tower?_

_And what the hell did they do to her?_

Ron looked up from having his head in his hands. The clock ticking filled up the room in its silence. Five agonizing hours had passed. They were torture to Ron. The whirlwind of everything that happened had yet to fully catch up to him.

Harry stood up from the bed beside Ron, pacing, running his hands through his messy black hair.

Waiting.

That's all either of them could do.

Just…

Wait.

They were in the Hospital Wing, which was rather crowded and noisy from the events. Norberta had singed quite a few hairs with her rampage and Ron, who had taken the brunt of her attack, had rather painful third degree burns on his face, arms, and hands, not to mention his bloody leg. Madam Pomfrey annointed him with a salve, but she warned that because it was magical dragon fire, it would take several more hours for his skin to heal properly.

And some portions may never heal at all.

Ron watched Harry walk over to the lattice windows, looking out over the Quidditch pitch.

Neither spoke.

It had been several hours since Norberta's attack, and almost all of the teachers were either out looking for her, fixing the Quidditch pitch...or babysitting the rest of the students. Because of the fact that there was a madman loose inside the wards, every single student was now in their dorms. Except the few in the hospital wing, of course.

Smoke still reigned heavily in the air, but at least the fires were out. Now it was just time to mend everything. Ron couldn't see much from his viewpoint on the bed, but he was sure the Quidditch stands were just about right as rain now.

Someone moaned a few beds over, and Ron looked over to see who it was.

Zacharias Smith. Figures. As a Hufflepuff, he was probably one that Ron saved. But right next to him was…

Ron sucked in a breath.

"What happened to him?" he asked Harry.

Harry followed his gaze to the man, and shook his head. "Dunno. They found him, unconscious. Could have been Norberta, though there aren't any burn marks on him. Most likely he was trampled and someone cursed him to get out of the way. They've tried everything...he still hasn't woken up. Madam Pomfrey told me he...I mean there's a chance...that he might never wake up. He's in a coma."

_Coma?_

Never would Ron wish that on anyone. Well, maybe Malfoy. Or that bastard McLaggen.

But not on Viktor Krum.

After he and Harry had searched everywhere within range of where Ron had seen Hermione fall, they were forced to go back inside and let "the adults" handle it. They had turned in the Marauders' Map, although she wasn't on it anyway. They were made to wait in the hospital wing to be tended to. They were told to stay there like good little boys.

Pissed beyond measure, they had let Dumbledore and the Order know exactly how they felt about the situation very loudly. Not that it did anyone any good...or helped Hermione in the slightest, wherever she was...

Of course, the Gryffindor game against Ravenclaw ended in a forfeit. Really, having no Snitch and getting your arse handed to you by a dragon really took the fun out of the game. Ron was so sore from the attack and the two-hour-long match—not to mention the hours spent on his broom trying to find her—that he would be just fine never sitting on a broomstick for the rest of his life.

And the fact that Ginny...that some damnable Death Eater hexed her to fall off her broom…

Ron's blood boiled just thinking about it.

When he saw that Cormac McLaggen had done something to Hermione and that she couldn't be found, Ron was beside himself with grief and worry. In the hours that followed, Malfoy was taken out of his petrified state and Dumbledore read his mind to try and piece together the previous events. And when Dumbledore told Harry and Ron that everything had been planned out from the start...that…that McLaggen and Dolohov _wanted _ to...to...

Ron couldn't finish that thought without his head spinning with trepidation.

And now everyone was out looking for her.

Dumbledore said that when McLaggen woke up the Headmaster read his mind as well, and even McLaggen hadn't known where Dolohov was planning on taking Hermione, or what…

What he was planning on doing to her.

_Where the hell is she? Did she hit the ground when she fell off the tower? Was she taken out of Hogwarts' wards? Does Dolohov have her? Does V-Vol…_

Ron's breath quickened, and his grip around the bedpost tightened as a wave of nausea overcame him.

_No...no...he can't have her. Harry's scar would be hurting if he did. Everything's going to be all right. The Aurors will find her...they will stop anything from bad happening...everything will be okay…_

So why couldn't he just believe it?

He finally couldn't stand his useless laying position anymore and got out of bed, tearing the strips of fabric off his arms where they were supposed to be helping his skin to keep the salve on. He ignored the pain in his leg and the woozy sense of blood loss that rowed its boat around his brain. Joining Harry out the window, he scoured the view before him for the millionth time, trying to find a glimpse of Hermione anywhere…

"Ron," Harry said brokenly. "You really should keep those on…"

"You sound like Her…" Ron suddenly broke off his words, not wanting to utter her name. Not when she could be...

"She's right, you know," Harry whispered. "She's always right. Always ever been right...fat load of good it does her now…"

"Don't talk about her like that," said Ron forcibly. "Not like she's…"

_Dead._

The word hung unspoken in the air between them, a doom they couldn't shake.

"They'll find her," whispered Harry, grief-stricken. To himself? Or to Ron? "_They have to. _I _can't_ lose her too. Not like I lost Sirius...and Cedric...and my family. I can't lose either of you."

Ron realized with a start as he glanced at Harry's face that Harry was…

Well, he was…

_Crying._

The weight of the situation settled more heavily on Ron. He was sure if he was an orphan whose abducted friends were his only family that he'd be crying too.

No offense to Harry or anything.

Ron turned his head back to the window, knowing Harry wouldn't be caught dead with tearstreaks in front of others. He pretended not to notice. His eyes flitted over to the Forbidden Forest, where he could see flashes of light from the search parties. The gnawing fear that had grabbed his stomach and would not let go was always ever-present.

He swore.

"Fuck this. I can't do this anymore," Ron hissed. He grabbed his stuff and walked towards the door. He didn't care what Dumbledore said. He didn't care about any of it.

Harry looked up at him, startled. "What...what are you…"

"I'm going to go and find her!"

"But Ron, they said we need to stay here—"

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!" Ron shouted, but a first-year student started crying in her bed, and Ron lowered his voice. "I'm not going to just sit on my arse while she's out there with an effing _Death Eater_. I'm going to go find her!"

* * *

Darkness.

Unconditional umbrage and quietude.

Hermione opened her eyes.

She was lying on her side. A lock of her brown hair fell in front of her eyes. Beyond that, dead, crackling, fallen leaves littered her view.

But there was something dark and sticky on the leaves. She reached out to touch it, and her finger came back red.

Blood.

Alarmed, Hermione shot up, gasping for breath.

It was dusk. The hue of the setting sun shone out in streaks of red, orange, mauve, and a rosy pink. It was striking, but she could only see thin glimpses through the high canopy of the trees above. The shadows loomed somberly, creating a much murkier atmosphere down on the forest floor; and she could clearly see the light of the full moon already risen and shining watery through the trees.

Standing, she had to clutch the cedar tree beside her for support. The plant's rough bark was comforting beneath her fingertips.

A shrill ringing was resounding in her ears, almost pounding in time to the migraine surrounding the cut on her head. Hermione's thoughts swam around her, and she almost passed out again. She gripped the tree to stop from falling over, and waited for the dizziness to pass. There was something trickling down the side of her face, and she realized faintly where the blood on the leaves came from.

She had a...what was the word...caterwaul? No...contagion? Merlin, she couldn't think straight, and everything was floating...

And the smell…

Hermione's stomach heaved, and she gagged, almost throwing up. Something horrid was burning. The stench hit her nostrils and her eyes watered. What, in Merlin's good name, _was_ that…?

She stumbled over, but she saw…a glimmer.

A glimmer appeared in front of her, like an invisible force field. A second later, however, it was gone, and Hermione wondered if she was seeing things.

Wards? No...woods.

Eyes blinking, Hermione tried to shake her head clear of the fog surrounding her brain. Trees surrounded her, yes...she knew that...she was in the woods…

What woods?

What woods did she know…

Well, the Hundred Acre Woods, of course...Rivington Woods, she did love those...the forest of Dean, that was Mother's favorite...wait, forest?

Forest. The Forbidden Forest.

Realization cut through her, and she suddenly remembered. She looked up and, sure enough, the jagged peaks of the familiar Scottish mountains that were Hogwarts' backdrop loomed in the distance.

Relief flooded her till she was dizzy. She was still at Hogwarts. Through an opening in the trees, she could see the Quidditch pitch. Which meant she was somewhere deep in the Forbidden Forest. Which was, _naturally,_ forbidden to students for a reason.

And the glimmer she saw really was the magical wards surrounding Hogwarts and its grounds. She was at the edge of safety. A few more steps...and she wouldn't be safe in the wards anymore.

But...why?

Her hands reached up to clutch her pulsing head. Was all of the blood on the ground hers? She couldn't have been bleeding that much…

Stumbling away dizzily, Hermione gravitated towards that burning, acrid smell fresh in the air. And then, on the other side of that tree, she saw it. One huge smouldering patch of burnt ground and a pile of charred ashes in the middle.

_Did someone light a bonfire here?_ She thought, dazed. Perhaps this was all a night of drunken revelry gone bad. But she didn't smell any alcohol, and there were no passed out bodies beside her own.

The scorched ground was about twelve feet wide in diameter, and had already burned itself out, although still smoking spots remained. But the smell..._Merlin_…

The bile rose unbidden. Hermione clutched her stomach and threw up against a tree.

A darkness overcame her that made her shiver in fright.

Something very bad just happened, and she had no memory of what it could possibly be.

She looked down and took stock of her appearance. Her shirt was ripped, exposing her midriff. Her jeans were muddy and likewise torn near the ankles, and her boots…

Hermione realized that she was barefoot.

_What the hell happened? _She thought, shaking. The frosty cold October temperature had fallen just as the sun had, and she didn't have her jacket or her scarf either…

And her socks?

She looked around the dead leaves that blanketed the forest floor.

"_Lumos!"_

She kept looking for her socks, until she realized her light wasn't on. Why the hell wasn't her bloody wand working—

_Oh._

_I don't have a wand._

Feeling too lightheaded to feel foolish, Hermione stumbled around in the dark. Her foot hit something. She reached around and felt a small tiny fabric pouch. It was her shrunken bag.

A glimmer of hope rushed into her. What was in her bag though? Nothing...nothing useful...plus without a wand, she couldn't even make it big again. So even if she were to reach inside and pull out food or-or-or water, it would be bloody tiny and wouldn't do her any good…

Tears spilled out of her eyes, and she tried not to hyperventilate.

_Breathe._

_Just breathe. And walk back to the castle._

_And try to figure out what happened._

Why couldn't she remember what happened? Who would have stolen a piece of her _shirt_? And her shoes…? What, was someone walking around with them on? Did the bloody body-robber think she was dead?

_Seriously, what the hell..._

She was swearing now more than she ever had before in her life. The situation clearly called for it, however. The predicament she was in now was both dark and confusing. Hermione tried to piece together what could have happened.

Her last memory was of…

Of her falling…when Cormac had pushed her.

So what happened between then—which took place roughly afternoon—to now? Judging by the time she knew sunset was, the position of the moon, and when moonrise was (because of course she kept up with these things, having a werewolf as a professor), it was roughly around seven o'clock in the evening. Still, that was…

_Seven hours_ of her life unaccounted for.

The hairs on her arms stood on end. She felt a scream rise in her throat, echoing around inside her head, but it never came out.

Why couldn't she remember how she got here?

And who the hell brought her here?

And better yet…

Where were they now?

Hermione stumbled over to where the blood on the leaves was thicker and more spread out.

Her world was still hazy. It was as if everything right in front of her was focused...but the edges of her vision, everything behind her and around her, was shaking from some sort of mental earthquake. And the smell...the nasty chemical smell of blood and burning and _death_...

There...she was no Sherlock, but she could see something in the ground where someone must have dragged something heavy...the blood was growing thicker...until…

Did someone try to save her? Did they get injured?

Walking through the forest for another minute, she followed the blood trail, her eyes closing heavily until it took her a few seconds to remember she was supposed to keep them open as she walked. She forced them open again.

The blood trailed over to a large tree. She smelled it before she saw it. There, nestled at the base of the towering tree's roots, was something small and golden lying there.

Crookshanks.

Blood matted his fur, and it was smeared all around him.

He was dead.

* * *

Ron dressed quickly.

He rummaged through Harry's trunk and grabbed Harry's Invisibility Cloak to stuff it in his pocket. It had been a bitch getting into Gryffindor tower with all the new security and everyone on lockdown, so he was going to need help sneaking out.

Frustration gripped him. _How the hell am I supposed to find her?_

Not for the first time, he wished he knew Legilimency, and cursed Harry for not knowing it by now.

Then he cursed Harry for not coming with him.

_Merlin abroad, there must be some way. Some magical trick or spell or _something _that nobody else has figured out by now!_

But try as he might to think of one, he was coming up with a blank. What could he possibly know that none of the Aurors and Order members and teachers knew? They were years his senior, they had so much experience, there was no way in hell that they wouldn't know how to track her—

An image of Crookshanks' tracker flashed in his mind from that morning at Hagrid's as Hermione was rummaging around inside her bag.

"_I don't know why I brought it…I was hoping to try a few spells on it during the match to see if I could find out where Crookshanks might be...I left the tablet in my room though…"_

Hermione had the tracking collar in her bag.

_Holy shite._

Ron stood up, the blood rushing to his head. Hoping against hope that he was right, that she had left the bloody tablet in her room, she must have, but what if she didn't and he'd be back at square one? But what if she _did _and he was _right _and—

Bloody hell. He could use her tablet to track _her _instead of Crookshanks. But...how the hell was he going to get into her room?

Well...maybe...perhaps he could go down and ask Lavender to go up and search Hermione's things for it...but no...he really, _really _didn't want to have to talk to Lav, and she was hardly going to help him now, was she...

And then he saw his dragon-scorched Cleansweep Eleven perched against the wall from when Dean and Seamus had brought it up for him. They'd found it on the Quidditch pitch, they said. The burn marks on the poor thing went up and around the sides, and that wasn't near as bad as the tail that was almost completely gone.

But next to the faithful, slow-arse, pitiful thing was something far better—

Harry's Firebolt.

A plan formed in his mind. Perhaps he could get out of Gryffindor tower another way.

Mind made up, he threw on the Cloak and mounted the Firebolt—trying to ignore the sad glance of betrayal his own broom was undoubtedly throwing him, of course—and shot a spell at the windows.

And then he was soaring out of them.

* * *

It was a mark of how exhausted and in shock she was that Hermione didn't break down in tears.

She just stared at her dead pet. If she'd had her wand, she would have tried to dig some sort of grave for him. Or conjure a wreath of flowers. Perhaps...shut his wide-open eyes…

"_He saved me…" _she whispered.

That much was evident.

Her mind—ever logical even when she was dizzy with blood-loss and shock—worked a bit harder as it sorted out this bloody puzzle.

Whenever she fell, she reasoned, Cormac pushed her.

Well, yes, yes, of course he pushed her. He must have. She remembered it.

So...she fell. But she didn't land. Did she?

Brow furrowed, Hermione tried to remember.

No. Didn't land. She must have been snatched in the air, saved from dashing to the rocks below. Saved...by a Death Eater. It wasn't Cormac. Couldn't have been Malfoy...but what other Death Eaters were there…

Her thoughts trailed off into a murky swamp, and Hermione had to abandon ship before she passed out again.

She had to keep moving. When she walked, she stayed awake.

Taking more steps towards the direction of the castle, she tried to wake her brain up.

Think. _Think. _He would have had to have either been on a broom or...or...or standing where she couldn't see him when she looked down from the tower. He stopped her fall, either by catching her on his broom or by slowing her descent. She must have been unconscious by then, because she didn't remember being caught. In any case, he would have brought her to the Forbidden Forest where nobody could see them. He would have taken her to the wards that surrounded Hogwarts and its environs. He would have tried to take her through it...to get her away from safety...and if he had succeeded, he would have been able to disapparate with her anywhere.

To Voldemort.

But he hadn't succeeded, obviously.

Something had happened. Either he found out he couldn't take her through, or...

He...was attacked. That explained the blood around her when she woke on the forest floor. Something attacked him. Crookshanks.

She shook her head. No…not right...

Already that didn't make sense. Else, why wouldn't Crookshanks' body and the Death Eater be found next to her?

Something must have happened. He dragged her...but Crookshanks caught up with him. And...something else...yes…

It had to have been something else too. The Death Eater wouldn't have just left her there, not when he was so close to taking her to his master. And he couldn't have disapparated because, of course, that wasn't allowed on Hogwarts grounds. No apparating on Hogwarts grounds. No disapparating on Hogwarts grounds. But if he was wounded, there would have been bloody marks going away from her body besides Crookshanks'.

Which meant he was chasing off, or being chased by, the other thing that attacked him. And of course...if that person had been a friend, they wouldn't have just left her there. Which meant the Death Eater chasing him off would have just recently happened...or…

Or the Death Eater got him.

She shivered.

A howl split across the distance.

Her arm hairs prickled.

Howl. On a full moon. Full moon meant…

Moony.

And then all of a sudden, Hermione realized who it was who saved her.

Another howl, much closer this time, was cut off abruptly by a whine of pain.

"_Moony!"_ she cried out, whipping her head around, wishing she had a wand. Fighting down a wave of nausea at this sudden move, Hermione stumbled forwards, clothes catching on spindly bushes—

That sound couldn't have been more than a hundred yards away. And she could see the shapes now. A dark, tall figure...a huge, beastly form...whines and cries as the Death Eater trained his wand and tortured the wolf in front of him.

She was awake now. Very, _very _awake.

"No!" Hermione screamed, unused voice sounding tortured. "NO! Leave him ALONE!"

The Death Eater and his wand turned on her.

* * *

Elated at the adrenaline rush, Ron rounded the tower, counting windows as he went. The Gryffindor sixth-year girls had to be the same floor as the Gryffindor boys, so he looked through the top-most windows…and then he saw the one with the most damage, and threw another spell at the windows, flying through.

Feeling very, _very _like an intruder, Ron was beyond relieved that the room was empty. He'd already seen the other girls in the common room. Hoping against hope that they stayed down there, Ron still knew he had to be quick. His feet touched the lush carpet, and he walked over to Hermione's area.

Homesickness for her overwhelmed his senses, and Ron took several steadying breaths before he rummaged through her perfectly-made bed that smelled very much of _her_.

Tears sprung unbidden in his eyes, but he couldn't—_couldn't—_think of that right now, he had to focus on her being well and safe and not with that _damnable_ Death Eater—

_Focus!_

Hermione's desk caught his eye, and the stone tablet sitting so unassumingly on it. He hardly had time to wonder why the foxtrot the girls got to have desks and not the boys, before he grabbed it.

Wand shaking, Ron tapped it, and the tablet was activated. He saw the girls' room and the stone tablet being held by him.

"_Miniscula."_

The map zoomed out, till the entire tower was shown. Then all of Hogwarts. Then all of the grounds. Then the little blinking red dot appeared and Ron sat down hard on the bed, dizzy with relief. It was in a little corner deep, deep into the Forbidden Forest where Ron was certain they'd never been before.

_She's here! She's still here, he hasn't taken her to V-Vol…_

But just as quickly, the fear was back. He'd found the tracker, but what if it wasn't still on her? What if it fell out while she struggling? Or…

_What if she isn't even alive?_

Heart racing, Ron raised his shaking wand again and tapped the red dot.

"_Majuscula!"_

It zoomed in slowly, too slowly, and Ron held his breath until it got closer and closer—

And then there she was.

Still.

Somebody was walking closer to hers. But of course he didn't know who it was, this stupid bloody map didn't label things like the Marauders' Map—

_But why the hell couldn't we find her on the Map? This doesn't make any sense. She's still in the wards, it should have shown her. The only reason the Map wouldn't have shown her is if she was—_

His racing heart stopped, and Ron thought the word before he could stop himself.

_Dead._

Face white, Ron grabbed the broom and ran across the room. He leapt out of the window and onto the Firebolt, soaring towards the Forbidden Forest faster than he'd ever had in his bloody life.

* * *

She flew backwards.

Her body was slammed up against a tree some thirty yards behind her, Crookshanks lying dead at her feet once more. Horrified, Hermione tried to move her arms, her hands, even her feet, but she was stuck to the treeby his spell and could do nothing as he walked closer to her. The invisible force holding her vibrated as the Death Eater drew near. And then he took off his mask.

"Dolohov," she gasped, and the cursed scar on her chest started throbbing.

His wand still trained on her, Dolohov's arm snaked out and grabbed her face. His long, unkempt fingernails dug into her skin and she choked down a whimper, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

Moony the Werewolf, lying on the ground behind the Death Eater, snarled and tried to get up. But the Cruciatus Curse did a number on his quaking limbs. It was one of the only spells that worked on werewolves, who were magically shielded. He couldn't hold up the weight of his canine body because of it, and Moony fell over again.

"What is it about you, Mudblood?" Dolohov hissed. "What is it about you that the Dark Lord wants so? Shall we go find out, then? You and me?"

Hermione spat in his face, wishing with all her might that she'd been born a dragon so she could scorch him instead.

Instead, he threw his head back and laughed at her. Her skin crawled at the sound. A movement off in the woods caught her eye, but it didn't look human, and her heart raced—

"I like them fiery," he said, appraising her.

The look in his eyes sickened her, until suddenly he wasn't looking at her anymore. Confused, Hermione's eyes followed Dolohov's as he looked towards the cracking of forested footsteps.

Hestia Jones came into view.

She blasted Dolohov away from Hermione with a swish of her wand, disarming him as well, then ran forward, stopping first at the unconscious Moony, who needed far more help than Hermione.

"Hermione! Are you all right? What happened? He didn't touch you, did he?" Hestia asked, bandages shooting out of her wand and wrapping themselves around the werewolf's bleeding legs.

"H-Hestia?" said Hermione. "He's not a...alone...there's a...there's...a...Dolohov has—"

But the roar of a beast deafened their ears, and Hermione screamed as Fenrir Greyback in full werewolf form leapt onto Hestia.

The Defense professor, although well-versed in duels and battles, spells and curses, couldn't do much against the werewolf—who was magically impervius to most everything she threw at him.

It was a losing battle.

Hermione watched in horror, screaming, as Greyback trapped Hestia under his paws, snapping her wand with his jaws, his claws digging into her skin, blood dripping out around them.

"NO! DON'T! GET _OFF_ HER!" Hermione screamed. "MOONY, _WAKE UP!"_

But Greyback was blessedly still over Hestia's struggling form, not going in for the kill, and Hermione realized belatedly that he was waiting...for _orders._

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this," snarled Dolohov as he limped back over. "I don't even know how the hell she got through the blood barrier. But the bitch has been a thorn in our sides for far too long. You know what to do, Fenrir."

"Please, _please_ just let her go," sobbed Hermione, pleading for her professor's life. "_Please,_ I'll do anything! Make him _stop_—!"

A sickening howl of pleasure split the air, and Fenrir Greyback sunk his teeth into Hestia's neck.

Hermione screamed. "_NO!"_

* * *

Ron almost crashlanded into a small clearing in the forest, and dismounted. What the hell did he just crash into? There was definitely something in the air...an invisible forcefield or something. It wasn't a ward...at least not any he'd ever seen before.

He ran forward and put his hands gingerly against where he collided into it. The air shimmered red for a brief second before vanishing.

Not a ward then…

Something Dark? Perhaps...blood-related?

Peering through the trees, Ron tried to find out what was happening in the darkness before him. His light spell didn't help any either. He didn't see Hermione anywhere. Pulling out Hermione's tablet, Ron tried to find her on there and see how far away he was, relieved when he spotted her a few hundred yards from him.

He only had to find a way through this Dark protection spell, then he could go to her.

Of course, ten minutes and about forty spells later, this proved far more difficult than he'd thought. He was just about ready to throw his wand down in frustration when he heard the cracking of footsteps on twigs, and he whirled around.

It was Charlie.

Relieved beyond measure, Ron's wand arm sagged.

"Thank Godric, Charlie, I need help! I was just about to send a Patronus. I found Hermione! Dolohov has her in this weird protective bubble though, no wonder nobody else could find her. But I found her on this tracking collar device, it—"

A spell shot at him—he barely dodged it in time, and it nicked his arm.

"Ow! What the _hell_, Charlie—"

Charlie threw another one. Ron threw up his shield, and it richoted.

"_What are you playing at—" _Ron roared.

But the blank eyes—the expressionless face—Ron cowered under his shield as his Imperiused brother threw spell after nonverbal spell at him, too shocked and merciful to think of shooting any curses at his brother.

"Charlie, come _on—"_

Ron stuck his head out of his shield—a Killing Curse shot right by his head and singed a hair—

Shocked, Ron shouted, "_Protego!"_

His spell shot towards Charlie, covering him and protecting Ron from a few more Killing Curses.

Ron roared, "NOW SNAP OUT OF IT, YOU PRICK!"

* * *

Hermione sobbed, her tears obscuring her vision of Hestia, bleeding out on the forest floor. The woman's neck was a dark red, her face was white, her eyes were closed.

Prowling around her body, Fenrir Greyback's bloody muzzle was stark around his gray fur, his eyes now on Hermione. He kept growling impatiently, coming even closer and sniffing around her legs and feet. She was too much in shock to realize that Dolohov had moved too until his face was right before hers.

"Now, darling," he hissed into her ear. "If you don't want me to tell the werewolf to do the same to you, you're going to be good for me, won't you?"

"What do you want?" she whispered, tears leaking out.

"What _I_ want doesn't matter. I only serve the Dark Lord. And although he wants your little Weasley brought to him dead, my Master seems to want you alive." Dolohov stepped over to Hestia and picked up his wand from her limp hand. "Unfortunately…we tried to get you past the wards already, and failed. And so we've had to...improvise…"

He walked back towards her, his black cloak swishing, his gray hair and marred features illuminated in the moonlight. Greyback followed Dolohov towards her, growling his pleasure at the blood-stained air around them.

"But although my Master wants you alive, he never said anything about _unspoiled_," said Dolohov with a sadistic grin, reaching out his clawed hand towards Hermione's throat. "Perhaps now we can finish what we started in June, my little Mudblood."

"Don't you _dare _touch me!" she growled, trying in vain to fight back.

He ignored her.

In terror, Hermione felt his hand leave her neck and go crawling down her chest until he exposed the skin between her breasts. She squirmed, trying to get away from his vile touch.

In hunger he stared at her scar, the ugly V-shape marring her features, white in the darkness and moonlight.

It was the scar that _he_ gave her.

Hermione bit back a cry as Dolohov touch it, the disgust of his nasty skin on her five-month-old scar burning her.

"I do love to see my handiwork," he hissed.

Narrowed, brightly-dark eyes gazed transfixed at her skin, and Hermione tried to get out of his hold, her fingers scratching the bark behind her. She still couldn't bring her arms or body forward from his spell, however. His nasty hand drew back, but Hermione's relief at that brief gesture was dashed when he brought out a wickedly sharp dagger.

"No, no, _no," _Hermione gasped, struggling harder to get away. "Please, _please_ don't! _PLEASE—!"_

With the razor edge of his blade, he carved into her skin, following the three inches going down and the three inches going back up again—slicing it sharply open again as he went—red blood dripping down her chest—

Hermione screamed in agony.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**First off, shout out to AzureAlquimista, WinkingSkeever, Books, Gja03, Iris129, Celeste45, JohnDouglas4274, and the guests who have reviewed, it really is the highlight of my day! Look for a surprise in the next chapter, and I can guarantee you will know it when you see it.**

**As for the story, I sure hope it is exceeding your expectations! I'd hate to get a T for Troll, even if this is just fanfic. As always, let me know what you want to see happen next, and I will do what I can! (No promises on if any of you ask for no more cliffhangers, though. You know they are my jam.)**

**Also, congratulations to JohnDouglas4274 for being my 100th Reviewer! And congratulations to AzureAlquimista for bringing my reviews up to Eleventy-One! (See what I did there? I'm multi-verse-able.)**

**Cheers!**


	35. The Dark Curse

**THE DARK CURSE**

"_Avada Ke—"_

The words coming from Charlie were mercifully cut off as Ron shot a silencing spell towards him and dove behind a tree. The green spell hit the tree's bark, and Ron only had a second to wonder what percentage of dead he would have been had the silent Killing Curse hit him.

But even silenced, Charlie's relentless attack continued, and although Ron kept shouting the more harmless spells like stunners, sleepers, and silencers (not daring to try a harder spell against his brother), Charlie was still able to dodge and deflect each one.

They had moved closer to the middle of the clearing by this point. Ron was worried for his brother, but the screams now cutting through the distance were hard to ignore. He _had_ to get to Hermione.

A curse cut through his arm, splashing blood onto the trees behind him, and Ron groaned in pain, sinking to his knees, arm cradled to his chest.

"Charlie…" he said weakly, trying in vain to reach his brother. "_Charlie, _don't do this...it's me, Ron...your little brother…"

The disturbingly stony expression on Charlie's normally kind and jovial face, however, remained.

"_Flipendo!" _he said as Charlie came closer, then chose a spell chain. "_Levicorpus! Expelliarmus! Incarcerous!"_

With mere flicks of his wand, Charlie cast them aside and did a slashing movement—

—but an orange light from behind Charlie shot towards Ron's brother, hitting him square in his unprotected back. The stunner sent Charlie crashing down to earth, and Ron looked on in amazement before he realized the large monster coming out of the darkness and into the moonlight was simply a a monster-lover.

"H-Hagrid?"

"Yeh all right, Ron? He didn' get yeh?" said Hagrid worriedly, poking Charlie with his pink umbrella.

Ron sagged against the tree behind him in relief, eyes shut to dispell the momentary dizziness. His heart kept hammering in his chest.

Hagrid shook his head grimly. "I knew summat was wrong with 'im. Poor ol' Charlie. Been actin' dodgy all day. It was 'im, yeh know! He's the one what cursed little Norberta. It wasn' 'er fault! I know she attacked yeh, an...an I'm so sorry abou' that...but...but it just wasn't 'er fault…"

"I know. I know, Hagrid," said Ron, standing up with Hagrid's help and leaning against him. "It wasn't Norberta's fault. Just like it wasn't Charlie's…"

He walked closer and studied his brother's still form, feeling sick. His brother...and probably his favorite one too...kept trying to kill him. Would have succeeded even…

"Why?" Ron croaked. His face was streaked with dirt and tears but he just couldn't care right now. Hagrid was good people. "Why was he trying to kill me? Who could've gotten to him?"

"That dirty Dolohov, wasn' it? Cursed Norberta, cursed Charlie, got that Head Boy fella to do his nasty work with...with...Hermione an' all…" said Hagrid, with an audible sniff, wiping his face with a large polka-dotted hanky.

"You reckon we should wake him?" Ron asked.

"No...no, we don' know how deep that curse goes, do we. Best to take his wand an' send someone to get 'im…"

Ron took Charlie's wand from his limp hand and sent a Patronus into the woods for Dumbledore.

And then another agonizing scream cut through the night, and Ron realized painfully that it was Hermione's.

He and Hagrid looked at each other fearfully.

"We have to get through that damn barrier!" Ron said with gritted teeth.

They both turned towards the flickering shield. One wand and one umbrella rose into the air to finish the work.

* * *

The pain crippled her, unbearable, and she couldn't breathe—couldn't _breathe_—couldn't—_Merlin, when will this end—_

Hermione spasmed against her invisible bindings—screams were torn from her throat—they split her eardrums—

—but the pain—_the pain—_so intense—so white-hot and piercing—_burning—_

Dolohov carved forcefully into her skin, tracing the V in the space of several long, agonizing seconds.

"How...fitting.._._the curse I cast onto you was in the shape of a V, isn't it?" he hissed, pausing from his work. The vicissitude was welcoming, but his words were ill-favored. "V for Voldemort...he will like that when he sees. A mark you can carry for the rest of your miserably short life. Pity though...letting such a thing like you go to waste...perhaps it should it be V for Vixen?"

Disgusted, Hermione spat in his face, but instantly regretted it. Her chest was on fire. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt to be still.

But Dolohov just sneered. "Or V for Viper, rather."

His blade pierced her skin again, and the scream left Hermione's lips before she even knew what was happening. He finished carving out the V before he finally lifted his blade.

The respite was swift.

His arm arced and the blade slashed at her arms, stuck above her head by his spell—then again—_then again_—the blood splattered across the tree trunk and into the darkness, making Greyback lick his jowls and come closer—her eyes sagged close and the world swayed—

"_Please…"_ she cried softly. "Please just let me go...I won't tell anyone…_please..._"

Hermione felt warm liquid drip slowly down both of her arms—her head dropped down, too weak to hold itself up—

"I'm not done with you, bitch," Dolohov growled.

He grabbed her chin in his filthy hand, lifting her head up once more. Hermione could hardly keep her eyes open, but saw him raise his dagger to her face. Its point ripped into her skin, whipping her face to the side, searing into her cheek. Light and black flashes dotted her vision—he raised the cursed blade again and—

And then he was done.

Someone had ripped Dolohov off her—the dagger clattered on the roots of the forest floor—the spell holding her to the tree diminished—Hermione collapsed to the ground—white spots clouded her vision. What was happening to him, she didn't know. His hoarse shouts echoed around her, mixed with Greyback's roars.

The sharp, cutting pain—blood poured out of every slice in her skin. Her arms, her head, her face, her chest. Blood seeped out onto her red blouse. The dizziness grew too much, and Hermione closed her eyes, willing her body to just shut down.

She was done.

The lightheaded feeling was so overwhelming she knew she would pass out in a second...but she wanted it to be something more. She wanted to pass out and never wake up again.

But death wasn't that kind.

The hoarse screams stopped, just as abruptly as they began. Quiet murmurs in the darkness, but she couldn't tell who it was.

Someone walked next to her, then kneeled.

Her eyes remained closed though...she couldn't open them for the life of her, the blood loss from her head wound and now from her chest making her swim through the crackling burning leaves of dizziness...

Soft hands touched her chest, baring her opened wound to light. A hiss of disbelief, then a voice echoed out around her. "_Vulnera Sanentur...Vulnera Sanentur...Vulnera Sanentur…"_

The pain she felt was slowly diminishing. Hermione could breathe again…

Arms encircled her and she was lifted.

"Miss Granger," murmured a deep, quiet voice. She knew it...but the name and the face to the voice kept blinking out of her memories. It was familiar...but not enough. "Come with me...you're safe...they're all worried…I've got you..."

The relief flooding her at the thought of being safe was overwhelming.

Hermione gave in, and succumbed to the sleep engulfing her, becoming completely limp in her savior's arms.

She was safe.

* * *

Ron crashed through the undergrowth, following Hagrid. Just as he and Hagrid had started countering the blood barrier, Snape showed up and, with relative ease, he'd done the counter-curse to the Dark spell and brought them down, rushing in.

Never before had Ron been grateful for the slimy bastard.

Heart pumping, Ron rushed to the scene. Snape and Dolohov were fighting furiously against each other. Greyback at once attacked Hagrid, and the large half-giant wrestled with the werewolf on the ground. Eyes searching frantically for Hermione, all Ron could see were three lumps at the base of the tree across the clearing. And both dueling pairs were in between him and them.

At once, he joined the fray.

Shooting curse after curse at Dolohov, the nasty Death Eater had to parry both him and Snape, and it wasn't long before he was brought to his knees screaming, before a quick blow to his head left him of the ground, unconscious.

"I've got him," shouted Ron. "Go help Hagrid!"

Snape looked at him, a tiny hint of disbelief in his eyes, as if he didn't expect Ron would know they had to secure the prisoner as well.

"_Incarcerous!" _said Ron, and magical ropes twisted themselves around Dolohov's limbs.

Adrenaline coursed through Ron's veins as he watched the satisfied Snape turn on Greyback, helping Hagrid to dispatch him before the werewolf could get so much as a bite in. But Fenrir Greyback took off into the woods before they could capture him, and the three left standing watched him run off, frustrated.

They couldn't dwell long on that, however.

Ron shot a stunner at the unconscious Dolohov just for good measure, then levitated the Death Eater's body closer to the others so they could keep an eye on him. Ron approached the first body on the ground. It was Moony's body. Hagrid was hunched over him, and Ron could hear the werewolf's whimpers of pain. Moony's eyes were open, and Ron followed his gaze to where Professor Jones lay.

His face whitened.

The blood around her neck was substantial, and her eyes were half-open. Snape was kneeling over her, gently taking care of her. For probably the first time, Ron saw emotions displayed on the Potionmaster's face. Shock and grief, pity and fear. Feelings that Ron didn't even know Snape had.

"Weasley!" snapped Snape. "Stop gawking and help me. Press here!"

Ron didn't have to be told twice. He shot his hand towards Hestia Jones' bitten neck, pressing hard on the wound to try and stop the bleeding.

"I cannot use magical spells to heal her bite, since it is infected," said Snape. "I need you to stop the bleeding physically while I attend to Miss Granger."

"Hermione?" Ron's head whipped around, and Snape stood and went over to the last still form at the base of the tree.

Only then did Ron see her.

Horror and fear were magnified a hundredfold when he saw her bloody body. She lay still in a crumpled heap mere feet from him. His heart stopped in dread at the amount of blood covering her.

Watching in a daze as Snape turned her over, Ron heard him hiss when he saw the blood covering her arms, her chest, her face. And Ron could only watch and stare, breath coming out in gasps, hyperventilating. Was she dead? She was whiter than snow in the mere glimpses he could see of her skin that wasn't covered in the scarlet red blood. Was she alive? Was she okay?

A stir of movement below Ron brought his attention back to his favorite professor. He couldn't think of Hermione now. He had to take care of poor Professor Jones. Hestia moved ever so slightly, and terror filled him at the thought of her dying. Or worse...living through life being cursed…

_Wait. Snape said the bite mark itself couldn't be enchanted, but what about the area around it..._

Ron brought his wand to her neck, whispering numbing charms over the area around her wound, taking care to make them shallow so it wouldn't interfere with her breathing.

Hestia Jones' movements stilled and her face relaxed in her unconscious state. Then Ron removed his hand, where the blood was merely a trickle coming out, and spelled several bandages around the area, tightening their hold on her neck. A bit of red seeped through the bandages, but then stopped.

Relieved, Ron turned back to Hermione.

Snape passed his wand over her several times, muttering a spell Ron had never heard before. But it was helping. Her cuts were somewhat closing.

Then Snape shot off a Patronus into the woods, and Ron saw a swift, ghostly white raven take off in quick flight towards the castle. Snape turned back to Hermione, all the while whispering to her, picking her up so gently that Ron felt like he was intruding on a very private moment.

"I-is she…?" he whispered.

Snape turned around, Hermione limp in his arms. "How fast can you take her to the hospital wing?"

"I-I-I—"

"Here—" Snape deposited her in Ron's arms, and very gingerly Ron took her from him. "You must not levitate her. There would be too many problems with trying that for the first time in a forest with uneven ground, and we both know your spellwork is abysmal. Besides, you will need your wandlight to see your way back. Take her and go quickly. We'll be right behind. _Now!"_

Face white, Ron nodded, and stumbled backwards. Hermione was heavy, a weight he definitely wasn't used to. Even seventeen, his body was not fully grown. But the lack of movement in her face...the way her body was horribly slashed and hastily put back together, Ron knew that time was of the essence.

He had to get her to the hospital wing in time.

"_Decipulus." _

Snape cast a spell, and a bright red cage erected itself and surrounded Dolohov, the magical bars fizzing with energy like a lightning bolt. Ron watched it, fascinated, before turning back around lit. His foot kicked something, and he looked down to the bloody, dead body of Crookshanks.

He was going to throw up.

_Don't think about that. Just don't think about it. Get Hermione to the hospital wing. Just get her there in time._

Ron stepped over the dead kneazle and walked as fast as he dared.

Severus Snape picked up Hestia Jones' still form and followed him, and Hagrid scooped up Moony and slung him over his shoulder, his free arm holding out his crossbow and eyeing the Forbidden Forest warily.

For several minutes they walked. Hermione's breathing against his chest was ragged, her cheek against his shoulder cold, and Ron quickened his step. Even with Keeping, it was no easy feat carrying her, though she was relatively light. Really, she needed to eat more.

_If she lives long enough too, _he thought with dread.

Voices in the distance—Ron tensed, till he saw that it was several Order people he knew.

"Shacklebolt!" said Snape curtly. "We need dispatchers to Dolohov, he's been caged about three hundred yards behind me. And more to recover Fenrir Greyback, who got away. He was headed north, to the wards."

Kingsley Shacklebolt gave a curt nod, grimly assessing both Hermione and Hestia Jones in their bloody states.

"And Charlie!" Ron called out. They turned to look at him. "Er...Charlie Weasley, my brother, he was Imperiused. He fought me when I was trying to get through the blood barrier. He needs someone to look after him. He's stunned, probably a few hundred yards east of here. In a small clearing."

Partly impressed and partly disturbed by this information, Kingsley gave a small salute. "Thanks for the tip. We'll take good care of him, Ron."

Relieved beyond measure, and firmly resolving to never give up the Unforgivable Curse that his brother tried to used on him, Ron continued walking, following Hagrid back to the Castle.

Hermione groaned in his arms.

"Shh," he whispered to her. "It's all right...we're almost there...just hold on, Hermione. _Hold on…"_

The nasty-looking wound on her chest was dark red, almost black, with the mottled muscles showing through and the blood clotting. Snape healed what he could of the other slash marks, but this wound itself looked cursed—_horribly cursed_—and he didn't know if—if—

He couldn't finish that thought.

Quickening his steps, Ron wasn't even aware of the tears that leaked out of his eyes.

"_We're almost there," _he whispered again.

* * *

When Harry saw Hermione being carried into the Hospital Wing in the arms of Ron, of all people, his whole body, tense and taut with worry, visibly sagged.

"_Hermione!"_

Harry and Ginny ran forward and helped Ron set her on the hospital bed, several professors in the room gasping at the state of her.

"Madam Pomfrey! She needs help!" Ron shouted frantically.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over, but Harry and Ron couldn't leave her.

"_Heavens!" _Professor McGonagall's hands flew to her mouth at the sight of her favorite student, before she remembered herself and took charge. "Set her over here, Mr. Weasley, where—where she can have more privacy from the others."

Ron laid her down on the nearest cot, several beds away from the other dozen people that were injured during the dragon attack. Professor Dumbledore walked forward, face more grim than Ron had ever seen it, and at once erected a privacy screen around Hermione to shield her from the gawking stares of the other patients in the ward who were still awake. It didn't fully enclose around Hermione and the healer, however, which Harry was very grateful for.

Aghast, Harry stared at her.

She looked the worse for wear. Her golden brown curls were matted with blood, it was dripping from her face from a large, nasty cut, and the front of her shirt was wet, pieces missing, her pants badly ripped. She smelled of blood and smoke, and something else he couldn't quite put a finger on...

"Mr. Potter...Mr. Weasley...Miss Weasley...perhaps you should come away…" said Professor Flitwick, ushering them over.

"No," said Ron and Harry together.

"We're not leaving her," said Ginny. "We don't mind the blood."

It was a lie, of course. They minded the blood...a lot.

Horrified, they just stared at Hermione, and watched as Pomfrey set about trying to close the slashes in Hermione's skin that Snape had only been partly successful in. Harry couldn't stop staring at the dark blood and mangled state of her chest. His arm drifted around Ginny, who was sobbing next to him.

"Please be okay," Ron whispered, sagging onto the empty bed beside Hermione's. He stared at her quiet form, and looked so white Harry thought he would pass out in a moment. "Please be okay, Hermione…"

In terrifying silence, they all watched as Madam Pomfrey worked, trying to get the bleeding under control and close the wounds all the way.

And then the hospital wing was a-bustle again when Snape came in, carrying a bloody Professor Jones, and the world dropped out from under Harry.

"She's been bitten, Albus," said Severus, laying her down on the only other empty bed, keeping her separated from others. "By Fenrir Greyback."

There was a gasp that reverberated around the standing professors. Harry's and Ginny's jaws dropped, and Harry couldn't blink, couldn't breathe, couldn't—_couldn't—_

"No," cried Professor Sprout. "No, no, _no…"_

"Weasley and I were...were...were able to...to get the bleeding under control…" Snape tried to continue, but he was having a hard time talking, and Harry saw in shock that his hated professor was blinking furiously, obviously distraught. "I've sent for Aletha already. She should be—"

"I'm here," called out the dark-skinned woman as she strode into the room, a few medi-witch and medi-wizards trailing after her. She stopped right by Hestia's bed and looked down at her friend laying on the cot. "Oh, Hestia, what have you done now…"

Aletha Freeman at once started barking orders to the ones who came with her, and there was a flurry of activity around Hestia Jones. She was fussed over greatly as they assessed the damage to her veins and muscles, all the while tracking the curse as it spread throughout her body. Harry was fascinated, watching how they all worked so seamlessly. He quickly learned that she was one of the leading healers in werewolves and their bites.

"Should we move her to St. Mungo's, Ms. Freeman?" Professor Dumbledore asked somberly.

"No, we can't move her in this state," she replied. "It's a miracle you even got her here this far, Severus, without more damage done. You said it was Greyback, then? Where's Remus?"

"Hagrid is tending to him in his hut. We felt it best he take him there, considering. Remus was put under the Cruciatus several times and has a few scrapes on his legs but should make a full recovery. Hagrid will bring him up after the moonset and he has transformed again," said Professor Snape.

Face white, Harry had to grip the armchair and sit down again. The Professors talked quietly amongst themselves, but Harry was too tired and drained to listen in.

Aletha Freeman and her team asked for complete privacy while they worked, so there wasn't much that Ron, Harry, or Ginny could see. The screens completely closed around Professor Jones, they turned back to Hermione and watch Madam Pomfrey carefully trace her wand over the wound on Hermione's chest.

"This was a cursed blade," Madam Pomfrey said grimly. "I don't know how much of this we can repair…"

Ron's breath hissed.

"Poppy," said Professor Dumbledore, coming closer to her. "Please let me know if there is any change in either of them immediately. We have important matters to take care of."

She nodded in the assent, and Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Sprout all left the hospital wing. Harry stared after them, wishing he could follow and learn more about what they had to take care of, but knew it would have to wait.

"Murtlap essence, please, Meghan," said Madam Pomfrey, and Meghan Freeman hurried off to obey, eyes wide.

"Please, Madam Pomfrey…" whispered Ginny. "Please fix her!"

"Patience, child," said Madam Pomfrey, "I'll fix her up in no time, mark my words! I have been a healer for a quarter of a century, and I'll be damned if I let a cursed blade stop me now. Now Mr. Weasley, let Miss Freeman attend to your arm while I work on this poor girl..."

Face grim, the Hogwarts matron set to work.

* * *

It was one of the most harrowing hours of Ron's life.

It was well beyond midnight, but the air was too tense and he was far too worried about Hermione to be able to fall asleep. He'd just had one of the longest days he'd ever had, but Ron couldn't have relaxed or even left the room for the life of him. He kept pacing the ward, sneaking glances through the curtain gaps at Hermione.

When it had been too long since he'd had an update, Ron frustratingly groaned and rubbed at his sore arms some more. Meghan Freeman had fixed the gash in his arms just fine but, Merlin, did his burn marks itch.

Ginny stirred from her perch, head laying on Harry's shoulder, both of them slumped over in slumber on some waiting chairs.

There was a murmur of hushed tones by the doors that belonged to some Aurors, but Ron paid them no mind. He tried eavesdropping at first, but after a few minutes of no real news, he gave up.

Hermione's bedside curtains opened up just then, and Ron rushed over. Ginny woke up and elbowed Harry, whose glasses were askew, and they both sat up and came over.

"I believe we were able to fix most of the damage," said Madam Pomfrey, face ever stern. "She will still have scarring of course...can't help with that from a cursed blade...but she is taking a lot of pain potions and we were able to stop the curse from taking over in those areas, thank goodness. Thanks of course to Miss Freeman here."

Meghan Freeman beamed, albeit tiredly.

Ron, Harry, and Ginny let out a collective sigh of relief.

"You may sit with her now. Her sleeping potion ought to have worn off by now. She may not wake up for a while, but she may surprise us. It's best she have her friends around her when she does. What she went through was extremely traumatic. Now excuse me, I need to speak with the Headmaster," she said, then hurried off.

Ron took the seat right next to Hermione, and just stared at her. The blood was cleaned up nicely. She looked really fresh and clean, and her face was much healthier than the dead white of before. The cuts were not all healed, but they were closed and they looked better.

But there...on her chest, just barely peaking out from under the white bandage…

Ron was afraid to touch it, but drawing back her hospital robe a hair's breadth confirmed his suspicions. The skin was gray...like it was dying...

Horrified, Ron dropped his hand and sat back in his chair.

Harry and Ginny came over, sitting on her other side, unaware of what he'd just done.

"What do we do now?" Ginny asked, looking at the unconscious Hermione wretchedly.

"We wait," said Ron. "For her to wake up."

It turned out they had less time to wait than they thought.

Only a few minutes later, Ron's fingers were brushing back a lock of hair from her face, when her eyes fluttered open.

When she saw him, she gave a sleepy smile. "Mmm, Ron…"

"I'm right here," he whispered. "You're safe."

Merlin, he wanted to hug her...but he refrained, not wanting to hurt her further.

"How are you? Can I get you anything? Water?"

She shook her head, but winced.

"H-Hestia?" she whispered, eyes worried.

Sadly, Harry shook his head. "We don't know anything. Aletha Freeman is taking care of her now, but we haven't heard how she is. I guess no news is good news."

"And M-Moony?" Hermione asked, voice raspy.

"I'll get you water," Ginny said, and poured some from the water pitcher nearby. Hermione took the cup gratefully and drank.

"Your 'Moony', as you call him, is being well-looked after, my dear," said Dumbledore, walking over to them.

They turned to him and he sat down in the last chair beside her bed, patting her blanket-draped foot.

Madam Pomfrey came in with him, and set about re-bandaging Hermione's dressings and dabbing some more at the wound on her chest. The potions she gave to Hermione seemed to be helping with the blood loss somewhat, although Hermione grimaced every time she drew a breath still.

"Professor...my…" Hermione closed her eyes, brow furrowed. The dark blood on her white face stood out, and Madam Pomfrey hovered nearby, taking care of it. Then Hermione opened her eyes again and finished her thought. "Crookshanks?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "My dear, I am very sorry for your loss. We will make sure he gets a proper burial."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, dismayed. The tear sliding down Hermione's face said it all.

"How are all of you?" she asked. "Did everyone make it out of the stands in time? Did Norberta stop attacking? Did Viktor..."

Ron and Harry both winced at the mention of Krum's name, for two different reasons.

"Hermione...Krum was found on the ground by the castle. He's alive—" Harry rushed out, "But he hasn't woken. He...may have been trampled on. Or...fallen off his broom. We really aren't sure. I'm really sorry…"

_I'm not, _Ron thought savagely, though he'd never voice this. _Good riddance..._

Alarmed, Hermione's eyes found Krum's body a few beds away from hers, his eyes were shut and a ghostly palor blanketed his already pale skin.

"Oh _no_..." she gasped.

"It may take hours, it may take weeks, before he will wake up again," Madam Pomfrey stated, then softened her tone. "I really am sorry, my dear. We will find out what's wrong with him in no time, you mark my words."

"And before you ask," Professor Dumbledore said gravely, "We do know about Mr. Cormac McLaggen and his actions this day. I am taking the matter of his expulsion into my own hands. We also have successfully revived Draco Malfoy and have set the Quidditch stands aright. And we have also found quite a few Slytherins who knew about the attack days ahead of time and chose not to forewarn anyone. We found them making full use of the student body in shambles. I shan't name names, but they are being suspended indefinitely."

A hushed silence came over them at his words. Ron inwardly rejoiced.

He turned to Hermione again. He wanted to know...everything. What happened to Hermione? Why was she on the top of that tower with McLaggen and Malfoy? Was Malfoy in on it? And if he wasn't, why the hell didn't he stop it from happening?

But Hermione had other things on her mind.

"Did Professor Snape apprehend Dolohov?" she rasped.

"Yes...I am afraid Dolohov was able to break through our wards to get into Hogwarts, though an investigation is underway to find out succinctly how. The Aurors are holding him in the Dark Tower now, and he is on his way to Azkaban," the Headmaster said. "As is Cormac McLaggen. He is past seventeen after all, and must be tried as an adult."

"And Greyback?"

"We...have not been able to find him. I've had the Order out searching, and the Aurors have sent their best teams out for hours. There have been sightings...however, since he is a werewolf and most spells don't work on them, we have had a hard time apprehending him," said Dumbledore gravely.

"Professor…" Hermione halted, not wanting to continue. "Is Hestia…?"

"Alive. And that is the most important thing. No matter what happens to her from now on during the full moon," Dumbledore clarified. "She is out of the woods now. Aletha is waiting to see how she does during moonset, which can determine how hard the curse hits them every month. When Greyback bit her, I don't believe he was wanting her to outlive the night. But Ms. Aletha Freeman is a miracle worker. As is lovely Madam Pomfrey here."

"You are too kind, Albus." Madam Pomfrey smiled at him as she bustled away, her work done for the time being.

After she left, Professor Dumbledore set up a silencing spell around their area and drew the curtains tighter with a flick of his wand. "Now I am afraid, Miss Granger, I must ask you to tell me everything…"

"Professor, no, she needs to rest…" started Harry.

Dumbledore said, "Harry, I am sad to say that hearing what happened is far more important right now. She will have plenty of time to rest, but right now I need to know the full story so we can get to the bottom of this and take care of things as quickly as we can. Are we clear?"

Ron and Harry both stared at Hermione, worried.

She slowly nodded. "It's fine...I don't mind telling him…but I don't remember much."

Looking rather uncomfortable, Hermione told them everything she remembered, beginning with how she realized the Snitch was tampered with. Harry and Ron knew as much, but this was news to Dumbledore, who hadn't been at the match.

She talked about the fires and the terror of Norberta's breakout, and then finding a cursed Draco Malfoy. Harry and Ron both scoffed at this, since it seemed a bit of a stretch to them that Malfoy would have let himself be cursed in the first place, especially from a Gryffindor. His story seemed too fishy to Ron to be true.

Dumbledore appraised Hermione when she told him about sending out her Patronus to alert Professor Snape that something was wrong, but Ron felt a hidden fury deep inside.

"It didn't work though, did it?" He blurted out. "Snape never came. If he did, Hermione would never have been taken. It was his stupid prejudice against us, wasn't it?"

"Mr. Weasley—"

"No, Ron's right! What bloody excuse does Snape have for not going to Hermione when something was wrong?" Harry asked in anger.

"It is _Professor _Snape to you, Harry," said a stern Professor Dumbledore, breaking in. "And nobody carries more guilt about Hermione's abduction than Severus. He was in the middle of saving some first-year Ravenclaws from a building collapse in the lower rafters of the Ravenclaw stands. He could not leave them by any means. By the time he had finished escorting them to safety and was able to make it over there to where Hermione and Draco Malfoy were, it was already too late. And when he heard you were abducted, Hermione…"

Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny were overcome with mixed emotions about their most despised professor. Did he really have a heart after all?

The Headmaster shook his head sadly. "Severus' guilt drove him to search for you farther than any of our other search parties. Everyone else had to stop and rest, but he kept going. This is why it was him who found you. I know he seems harder to get along with, but he really does have a soft spot for you. You are the best in his class, after all. And I have heard of the progress you two have been making on the Wolflord Antidote. Marvelous, indeed."

"It didn't help though," Hermione said sadly. "It didn't matter at all. And Greyback still got away, didn't he…"

"On the contrary, my dear, it matters far more than you will ever know. There have been more sightings across Great Britain of werewolves taking this potion and showing up to poor wizarding and Muggle families. And now because of the combined efforts of you, Severus, Remus, and Hestia, we now have at least the start of a way to combat that horrid potion. For that, wizarding-kind will forever be grateful to you…"

Hermione beamed, and Ron grinned just watching the smile light up her tired face.

She continued with her story then. Going into her altercation with Malfoy, then being Imperiused, and then discovering McLaggen. Dumbledore's eyes grew very dark when she said McLaggen had used an Unforgivable on her.

"If I may, Miss Granger, these accusations are far too serious a matter to simply take your word for it. I will need to borrow your memory when Cormac McLaggen is brought before the Wizengamot, as well as young Mr. Malfoy's."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione agreed.

When she got to the point about waking up in the Forbidden Forest and that burning circle in the woods and Crookshanks, then about Dolohov and her scar, Ron's skin crawled and his grip on Hermione's bedrail tightened.

"I can't believe that bloody…" Harry trailed off, the nasty word he was going to use dying off on his tongue in front of the Hogwarts Headmaster. "How did he even get inside the Castle wards?"

"We do believe it was McLaggen who let him in, although we still aren't sure as to the how," said Dumbledore. "Believe me, we are doing everything in our power to find an answer."

"Professor, I still don't understand," Ron finally blurted. "She was missing for hours! Why couldn't anybody find her? We used our Patronuses, we couldn't find her on the Marauders' Map, we cast spells to take us to her, to bring her to us, even… the Aurors used instruments I'd never even seen before! Why didn't any of them work?"

It was Hermione who answered this time. "It's because when Dolohov set up the blood barrier, he made me Unplottable, Ron. It uses different techniques than an Untraceable, which has been banned on Hogwarts grounds. He must have, though I don't remember any of it, maybe I was knocked out the whole time, but that's the only logical explanation. By making a person Unplottable...although it is extremely unheard of...you are in essence making them virtually unfindable. Like the Room of Requirements which requires an actual wish fulfillment in order to be granted access. Or Grimmauld Place, which uses a Secret Keeper. I've just never really heard of a person being made Unplottable before, in all my reading."

"Miss Granger, I couldn't have said it better myself," said Dumbledore, appraising her over his half-moon spectacles. "Indeed, when Dolohov dragged you to the edge of the wards and discovered he couldn't break you through them, he must have performed that spell to allow him time to think and come up with a secondary arrangement, which obviously took longer than he thought. This could be why you were unconscious for hours and why he wasn't there when you woke up. And Remus Lupin in his werewolf form was able to go through the blood barrier because the curse of a werewolf is, by its own nature, Dark."

"And Crookshanks wouldn't have counted since he's an animal. And then Greyback was let in as well…" Hermione said thoughtfully. "And then Hestia...but the barrier must have been down by that point, I suppose—"

"Wait, the Untraceable charm isn't allowed in Hogwarts? Why?" said Ginny.

This was sounding much too like History of Magic for Ron's taste. He fiddled with a bit of Hermione's hair, trying to get dried blood flakes out of it while he listened to Hermione's answer.

"Can you imagine the chaos if it wasn't, Gin? This is a school full of teenagers, after all. It's a complicated bit of magic, but still shouldn't be performed by young adults who are lacking their prefrontal cortices. However, the Unplottable is a spell that is in such use that it had to be allowed. Just think of all the places here that aren't even on the Marauders' Map! Slytherin's Chamber where you defeated the Basilisk, the Hogwarts cemetery, the Room of Requirements...I'm sure there are dozens more…"

Ron broke in. "As interesting as all that is, you didn't say how Hestia and Moony could have found you. Or how I found you on Crookshanks' tracker. If you were Unplottable, I shouldn't have been able to find you that way either. So something happened for you to have been made Plottable again right after we last looked for you on the Map but before I thought to go to your room and find you on the tracker tablet."

They all stared at him.

"Ron, that's...that's brilliant," Hermione said. "You knew I had the tracker on me? You used the tablet?"

Ron's ears reddened and he looked down at his shoes. "Well, yeah, it wasn't that difficult to suss out…"

"He really was brilliant, you should have seen him, carrying you in like that…" said Harry, grinning at Ron's obvious embarrassment.

"Wait, how did you even get in her room? You know about the slide spell on the stairs when boys use them," Ginny demanded.

"I...er...didn't use the stairs…" Ron tried to look everywhere but Professor Dumbledore. But it didn't work, and looking into Professor Dumbledore's penetrating stare, Ron couldn't take it anymore. "I took a leaf out of the Death Eater's book, all right? I grabbed Harry's broom and flew out of the boys' Gryffindor windows and straight into the girls'. I thought that finding you _quickly _was obviously more important than waiting around for Lavender or Fay to happen by me and asking them to go and check and risk them laughing at me and walking away. And I was right, wasn't I? I got there just in time. Would have gotten there earlier if it wasn't for bloody Charlie trying to kill me!"

"Wait, _what?" _Hermione gasped.

So Ron told them in depth everything that had happened to him. Professor Dumbledore looked amused at Ron's initial outburst but unperturbed by the rest of it (Hagrid or Kingsley must have talked to him about Charlie). And Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all looked properly horrified.

"Oh, poor Charlie…" Ginny whispered.

"I should have gone with you…" muttered Harry. "I shouldn't have been such a stickler to the rules and just gone with you. I could have helped…"

_Yeah, why didn't you, you git… _Ron bristled at Harry's words, but tried to shove down as quickly as it came.

"Well, Hermione?" he asked, when he was finished. "Your turn. How were you made Plottable again?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip, unsure.

Merlin, did Ron love it when she did that.

She glanced with hesitation at Dumbledore, who urged her to continue.

"Well, the only way for a person to lift an Unplottable is by one of three ways. First, if the caster lifts the spell which honestly I don't think any of us sees Dolohov doing. Second, if the caster themself has died, which we already know wasn't the case. And lastly, if the place...or person, in my case...is destroyed," said Hermione.

Ron paled at this. Harry drew in a sharp breath.

"You mean…"

"What she means to say…" Dumbledore broke in, studying Hermione's face. "Is that Dolohov must have cast a powerful Memory Charm on her to have made a spell such as his Unplottable one to think that she is no longer with us. By destroying her memories—a huge part of who she is—he was in essence destroying _her_."

There was a hush following this dangerous pronouncement.

"Shite…" Ron swore.

Nobody chided him.

Professor Dumbledore continued. "Perhaps he did this when he found there was no way he could take you out of the wards, Hermione. He may even have tried to do much worse, but you were thankfully saved in time. No, my dear, I must ask of you if you would like to take a week and go stay with your parents' in their safe-house? You do need to recuperate after all, and I can imagine you would want a break from Hogwarts, considering everything that has happened in the past few months?"

Startled, Ron, Harry, and Ginny looked from Dumbledore to Hermione. She too looked taken aback by his offer.

"Erm...to be honest with you, Professor, I don't know," Hermione told him. "But I also don't know if I'd be able to sit in a classroom come Monday and take tests and continue as if nothing had happened. I don't know how I'll feel being back around my classmates and teachers. But…but at the same time, I don't think I could just go back to my parents and leave Ron and Harry at school, even if the danger has now passed." Hermione wrung her hands, biting her lip again. "What…what do you think is the right thing?"

He smiled sadly at her. "I wish I could tell you, my dear, but I cannot. All I can tell you is to trust your own instincts. It might honestly be beneficial for you to go into hiding with your parents until this war is over. If you do choose to stay at Hogwarts, I promise that we will do everything we can to help make things as bearable as possible for you. And Miss Granger," he added, bending in close to her. "Know that it is okay to not be okay. You have an amazing amount of strength for someone so young. You are no doubt an amazing witch and you have already accomplished great things! You've shown that from your first year at Hogwarts. But it's okay to feel hurt about what has happened to you. It's okay to be sad, or angry."

She nodded, blinking away the tears building up in her eyes. "All that I know is that I need to be with Ron and Harry," she told Dumbledore truthfully. "They are my family."

Ron and Harry both grinned.

"Alright then," Dumbledore said, nodding. "That settles it. I will let your professors know that you will be staying at school, and that they need not ready work for you." He stood up. "Thank you, for taking the time to speak with me. Please know that if at any time you change your mind, I will understand. My door is always open to you if you need me, as is your other professors'. Take these next few days to relax and build up your strength. Don't push yourself too hard."

Dumbledore walked towards the doors of the hospital wing, and Harry walked with him, speaking to him in low murmurs. Ron, however, wasn't listening.

He stared out the window, feeling sick to his stomach. His whole body was coursing with an undefined rage at what happened to Hermione. At what _almost_ happened, too. She'd been so close to the wards...that bastard had been so close to winning, and if he had succeeded…

_Thank Merlin we found her._

Ron grew faint with the worry and stress of the situation.

Sighing, he looked over at Ginny, and saw with amazement that she had laid down on the bed opposite Hermione's and fallen asleep. A light snoring could now be heard. He grinned ruefully. She always could sleep like a log.

He pulled his own bed closer to Hermione's and laid down in it. His skin was starting to smart from the dragon's attack, and he took another swig from his potion bottle that Pomfrey gave him to help mend his skin and manage pain.

Hermione smiled sleepily over at him.

"Thanks…" she whispered. "For coming to save me."

"Oh…" he whispered back. "It was nothing…"

Their eyes closed, though try as Ron could to keep his open so he could just stare at more and thank Merlin that she was safe and sound...not dashed upon the rocks below the Quidditch tower...not dead in the Forest...or taken to Voldemort...or turned into a werewolf…

"What am I going to do with the pair of you…" said a voice wryly, half in jest and half extremely serious.

They both peeked open their eyes.

Harry stood over them, looking down at the pair of them in their bandages, and shook his head, arms crossed.

They stared up at him, confused. "What?"

"Running me ragged, the both of you. First I had to go save Ron from the dragon, and then we had Hermione worrying us sick, and then Ron ran off _again, _and then Hermione had us worried sick _again_… I thought _I _was supposed to be Hogwarts' resident damsel-in-distress."

Hermione laughed, the tinkly sound floating around them, warming Ron's heart.

"Oh please, Harry," Ron said with an eyeroll. He leaned back onto his pillow, arms folded behind his head, crossing his legs. "You have laid on your deathbed in this very same hospital wing far too many times to count. Dunno 'bout you, mate, but it's only fair to share the limelight."

The grin slid off Harry's face at Ron's words.

They both knew the truth of what he'd said all too well. None of them were used to Ron and Hermione being the targets of Voldemort's wrath. This was all new territory for each of them. And Ron would have given anything for Hermione to not have to be the one laying there next to him in pain. When he thought of what Dolohov did to her…

He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth loudly.

"McLaggen must have stolen the Snitch from the game," Hermione muttered. "But Dolohov couldn't have cursed Norberta...that magic would have been too powerful. Really, when you think about it, only Hagrid and Charlie could have gotten close enough to do it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Hagrid hatched Norberta, so the life-long tie is there. And Charlie raised her…"

"Are you saying _Charlie_ was in on it?" Ron snapped.

"No!" said Hermione, aghast. "But I am saying that dragons are so powerful that Norberta _broke through _Hogwarts wards! No Death Eater could have just sneaked up on Norberta and cursed her. Because dragons are so powerful, their fire is laced with magic. Say they are at the cave and Hagrid is trying to get Norberta and Grawp settled in. They put up the wards around them. But Norberta is smart. She quickly finds out that every time she blows out a puff, it breaks right through the wards where it touches, leaving an opening she can possibly fly through. And when Hagrid wrote that note on the door, he said—"

"—that he'd gone to show the cave to the 'visitors'," Harry broke in, realization setting in. "Charlie obviously would have gone with him. Dolohov must have been one of the visitors in disguise! And if Norberta was able to break through Hogwarts' wards because of her own superior magic, plus with that bit of her 'nesting' and her magic feeding into the wards..."

"—then Dolohov could very well have used _her_ to break himself in as well!" Hermione said triumphantly.

"Right," said Ron grimly. "And that would have been the perfect way for him to Imperius Charlie into siccing Norberta on me and setting her loose. That slimy, pock-faced bastard..."

"Was Dolohov also the Death Eater in Hogsmeade that delivered that death threat to you, Ron?" said Harry. "And the one who cursed both of you at the start of term?"

Hermione shivered.

"Well it was either him or McLaggen, and I don't reckon that pompous arse could have been that great a dueler," said Ron. "Whoever that bastard was, I won't let him get away with it."

Harry sighed gravely, then collapsed on the bed on Ron's other side. "At least we're done with this nightmare. McLaggen was the spy at Hogwarts that Voldemort sent. He's been taken care of. He was helping Dolohov. Malfoy, surprisingly enough, wasn't. But he _did _start out trying to help Voldemort. Until Voldemort chose McLaggen instead, for some bizarre reason unbeknownst to us. And Dolohov Imperiused Charlie into cursing Norberta because only Charlie could really get closer to her and tame her enough and also know where the right spot to hit her was. And then Dolohov let in his pet werewolf to come and do some of his nasty work..."

Hermione nodded slowly, trying to keep up with him but also looking too exhausted to want to bother with brainpower. Ron was the same.

Their eyes started closing again.

"I am so sorry to hear about Crookshanks, Hermione," Ron murmured, looking at the sorrow on her face. "That must have been terrible for you. And everything you went through..."

His sentiments surprised both himself and Harry, but they were nevertheless true. Ron probably would miss the orange furball running around anyhow.

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione whispered.

"Merlin, am I glad this is over," Ron muttered as they settled under the covers. "At least we can breathe easy now...no more Death Eaters after us...no more werewolves and beasties...no more Head Boys and Slytherins...finally, we don't have a price on our heads…finally...we can sleep..."

And with that, the three of them fell asleep.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Whoo! This chapter was a doozy! Took bloody forever, I'll tell you. Well...granted, I didn't work on it for a week after posting the last chapter. I was only preoccupied with finding termites in my house and my baby having a severe allergic reaction to plants he was playing next to.**

**Hope you all enjoy this chapter anyway, even with all the blood and gore. The next one ("The Halloween Ball") will take a while coming too because I have to rewrite a few of the scenes and add in a few new ones, sorry to say. But it makes the story loads better, I promise, spending all this time on it. And we are entering the last inning! **

**Any theories on what lies ahead?**


	36. The Tomb of Gryffindor

**THE TOMB OF GRYFFINDOR**

The horrors of the day before were still very much with them, lingering at the forefront of their minds even as they went back to their regular activities. Ron, Harry, and Ginny were all discharged from the hospital wing, although they still went up to visit Hermione in between their other activities. Ron was given more healing salve to help with the burn marks after a full magical debridement from Madam Pomfrey. He was told that although regular fires would leave no lingering damage, magical dragon fire was particularly nasty and was bound to leave some scars.

_Charlie loved them when he saw them, though. He said chicks dig it. Maybe keeping the scars wouldn't be so bad..._

His talk with Charlie was...painful, to say the least. The look on his older brother's face was tortuous as he apologized and basically enslaved himself to Ron.

"I mean it, Ron, whatever you need, I'll do it," Charlie finished as they hugged.

And when he went out, Ron was just left feeling confused. Of course he forgave Charlie...but standing there in battle, trying to dodge the Killing Curse from his _brother_...it was definitively one of the worst moments of his life.

Hermione, meanwhile, was doing much better, though she was still in the hospital wing. Thanks to the Blood Replenishing Potion she was given and Madam Pomfrey's quick work with the wand, Hermione wouldn't have any scar due to the nasty cut on her head. Her arms and face were looking loads better, just small residual scarring from the cursed blade.

As to the newly-opened scar on her chest (Ron colored at this part), Snape's healing her in the woods did what it could, although Madam Pomfrey's healing seemed to do the most wonders. She had to keep applying some sort of lotiony potion onto it, but Madam Pomfrey had said that after about a dozen more applications of it as well as a few more treatments of anti-curse healing, the scarring and the pain should become at least somewhat manageable.

"Merlin, it's just horrible though," said Ginny.

She, Ron, and Harry were all walking down the Grand Staircase Tower on Sunday evening. It was dinner-time and Ron was starving.

"I know," said Ron gloomily, just as Harry said "What is?"

"Hermione, of course. Everything that happened. I know I couldn't handle it if something like that happened to me. I'd be scared shitless," she said with a shiver. "She's probably going to have nightmares for weeks. We'll need to make sure she takes the Dreamless Sleep Potion every night."

"Er, hang on," Harry said, stopping abruptly beside a large painting near the Gargoyle Corridor. "I forgot the Marauders' Map in my room. Wait here while I go get it?"

He ran off, and Ron and Ginny's conversation moved back to Charlie and their parents. Dad and Mum were heartbroken when they'd heard and said they would be coming to check on them both: Ron for almost having been killed (again), and Ginny for almost falling to her death during the match. Neither of them were quite looking forward to this, but it was to be expected as they were the 'babies' of the family.

"Merlin, Mum needs a new hobby," Ron complained. "Someone else she can baby, seeing as we're both almost adults."

"Well, as soon as Bill and Fleur marry, they can make actual babies and then she'll have her hands full with spoiling grandkids. I heard Percy's relationship with Penelope is advancing. He might be proposing to her soon. Pity Tonks is still in the hospital, I know Charlie fancied her. Have you heard any news, by the way? On poor Tonks?" Ginny asked.

"Nothing," said Ron sadly. "I asked Charlie. She still hasn't woken. Poor bloke."

He leaned up against the large portrait, whose occupant tried shoving him away. After several seconds of being jilted by the whole frame, Ron gave up and moved away from it. It was as he was moving away from it, however, that he noticed it.

"Oy, Ginny?"

"Mmm?" She was still studying her fingernails.

"What do you know about Godric Gryffindor?"

"He was a Gryffindor. Why?"

"Well, duh. I mean...he was never a headmaster because the Founders ruled equally back then, but did he have any ties to the Grand Staircase Tower?"

"Why would I know? And why are you being so specific?"

Ron sighed, frustrated that useless Ginny was with him instead of Hermione. "Because I found a little lion carving in the wood by this painting, which means Gryffindor's tomb might be here—"

"_What?" _Ginny squealed.

"—but this doesn't make any sense as he was never a headmaster, so...why put it in this corridor?" Ron finished.

"Oh, who cares why? We found it!"

"_I_ found it. Unless your fingernails have magical _finding skills_, I don't think they did much work—"

"You found what?"

Harry had come to join them.

"The Tomb of Gryffindor! Look, Harry!"

"_What?"_

"Come on, open the Map, let's see how to get inside!"

"We should...we should wait for the others, shouldn't we?" Ron asked, hesitating.

They nodded.

"I'll go get them, they're probably at dinner!" Ginny said, and took off, tearing the Map out of Harry's hands.

Beyond excited, Ron and Harry couldn't wait to run to the hospital wing and tell Hermione. When they got there, she was sitting up in bed, wearing normal clothes again, as Madam Pomfrey discharged her.

"Wait, what?" Ron asked, slowing to a stop beside them. "You're discharging her already? But what about—has Dumbledore approved of this—"

"Of course _Professor _Dumbledore has approved!" Madam Pomfrey tsked. "What do you take me for, some hooligan letting children run wild with their shenanigans? There is nothing else I can do for her, Mr. Weasley, and as long as she keeps taking those potions quite religiously, she will be fine. Now off with you, children! Shoo!"

The boys didn't have to be told twice.

Harry grabbed Hermione's bag, and Ron got Hermione's basket of potions from Pomfrey. They took Hermione's arms gingerly as they helped her out of the wing under the watchful hawk-eye of the matron.

"What're you two—you know I can walk—" Hermione said, exasperated.

The minute they turned the corner, the boys broke into a sprint, pulling her along after them.

"Hermione, come _on! _You have to see this!" Harry said excitedly, yanking at her arm. She stopped resisting and followed them willingly after that.

By the time they got to the Gargoyle Corridor, Ginny, Neville, Meghan, and Luna were waiting breathlessly for them.

"What are you two on about?" Hermione said, frustrated, pulling herself out of their grips. Her face was rather pink, her eyebrows knitted together in concern and frustration, and a lock of hair had broken free from her hair clips and fallen into her face. Ron grinned at her, unaware he was staring, and tucked her hair behind her ear without thinking about it.

"We wanted to wait for you, Hermione. We found the Tomb of Gryffindor!" he said.

"You did?" she breathed, a smile coming at once to her face. "Ron, that's wonderful!"

There were exclamations from the others as well, but Ron wasn't paying attention to them. He led Hermione over to the tiny little lion engraved on the side of the painting. It was only now that he realized that it was Godric Gryffindor in the portrait, standing tall with his brandished sword, and looking rather pleased with all the attention.

It didn't take them long to cast the spell the Map told them to, and then they stepped inside.

Just like the two other tombs before them, Gryffindor's was elaborate and finely (albeit dustily) furnished. A hush of silence encompassed them as they walked about the chamber to the large sarcophagus settled grandly on a raised dais like the throne of long-ago king.

"It kind of makes sense, doesn't it," whispered Ron. "As amazing as he was, he was a wee bit pompous. Fancied himself a warrior king. Of course he would think planting his tomb in the grandest tower of Hogwarts would befit a wizard of his status…"

"This is _amazing!" _Ginny gasped, picking up a vase off a shelf that still held an eternal rose alive and flourishing in it.

"And the sword is in Dumbledore's office, of course," Harry said aloud, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with his shirt before sticking them back on his nose and looking around. "Rather dusty in here, isn't it?"

"Wouldn't that be so cool if you were really Gryffindor's Heir, Harry?" Ron asked. "I mean, you're a Potter, and that's a really long line of purebloods...you're probably related to the Dumbledores…I mean, you're no Sacred Twenty-Eight, but..."

"Heirs wouldn't have to belong to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, though," said Neville, leaning against a corbeled alcove. "I mean you could still be an heir even if you have some Muggle ancestry as well. One of Rowena's girls was a Squib. She married a Muggle, didn't she? So all their Muggle children would be heirs even if they don't have much magical blood."

"You're very right, Neville," said Hermione, tracing her wandlight along the sarcophagus and reading the runes upon it. She bent down lower to find more, but stopped, wincing and rubbing her chest.

"You all right?" Ron asked her in a low voice. The others paid no notice, wandering around the enchanted room.

"Yes, I just...it still hurts, is all."

"You taking your potions?" he said, worried. "You really should keep up on those, you know. If I don't take mine, my arms start burning again like the dickens. Have you?"

"Well, I was going to before two bloody idiots hauled me off like cryptkeepers to their little grave of horrors," Hermione said snidely.

Ron grinned. "Oh, yeah."

She tried walking away, but he pulled her back. "Here, Hermione, take this," he said, handing her a potion vial from the basket he was still carrying for her. It was the same Pain-Be-Gone vial that he'd gotten from Madam Pomfrey. She immediately grabbed it. He uncorked it and pulled out the dropper. "Come on, Hermione...please? For me?"

With a grimace, she shook her head, but he wasn't having it.

"Open," he commanded. Then to his surprise her mouth dropped open, and he squeezed three drops into her mouth. "Thank you," he said, as an afterthought while she struggled swallowing.

"Why do they make it taste like acid?" she asked, face still sour.

"There's probably a rule or something. '_The Healers' Code—Rule One: Every concoction must heretofore taste like piss'_," he said.

Hermione laughed.

Pleased at having made her laugh, Ron noticed everyone else was leaving. "Come on, let's go catch up," he said, holding his hand out to her.

She took it, and they walked after the others who were heading down to the kitchens to nick some food since they missed dinner.

* * *

Halloween loomed ever closer as the horrible weekend ended and classes began anew. The skies grew darker and darker and the weather turned abysmally cold. It was just the coming winter, they told themselves, although nobody really believed it.

Ron kept a very close eye on Hermione as they walked into the Great Hall Monday morning for breakfast. He was worried for her, that was sure. She wasn't acting herself, but what it was exactly that was going on, he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

Everyone kept staring at them as they sat down to eat their food, and Ron glared at quite a few people. Whispering and gossiping could be heard around them. It wasn't all just curiosity, however. Several people came over and asked Hermione how she was and what exactly happened. Face pink, she just told them what they already knew—that the Head Boy brought her to Dolohov, but she was rescued in time. She didn't say anything about her scar or her cat, and absolutely nothing about Moony or Hestia and what happened to them, for fear of anyone finding out about it.

Of course, everyone knew Professor Jones was in the hospital wing anyway. They assumed it had to do with the dragon attack and the fires, but nobody knew exactly why except the Headmaster, the teachers, and the four of them. She still hadn't woken up, although she was out of the woods. Hermione in particular was taking this emotionally hard. It was her fault that Hestia was there trying to find her in the first place, and her fault that Hestia was now a werewolf.

And what was worse, Ron had no idea how to help her with that guilt. He, Harry, and Ginny talked with Hermione before bed the other night in the common room trying to assuage her guilt, but he didn't know if they had even gotten through to her.

The whole situation was hopeless.

The three of them and Neville walked up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom half an hour later, although Ron insisted on carrying Hermione's bookbag for her. When they entered the room, they saw with surprise that Remus Lupin was going to teach the class, looking haggard, tired, and the worse for wear.

"How are you two doing?" he asked Ron and Hermione in a low voice as they sat down. "We are going to be practicing some dueling techniques today, but would you like me to take it easy on the pair of you? You really need to take it slow today, especially you, Hermione. Would you prefer to sit this one out?"

They both shook their heads.

"I don't want preferential treatment, sir," said Hermione. "I'm fine. I can handle it."

"Me too," said Ron. "My burns are fine. But thanks, sir."

Professor Lupin smiled and went back to the front, beginning the lesson as more students trickled in.

"Sadly, Professor Jones is still in the hospital wing from the events of this past weekend, so I will be her substitute today. Now the first spell I am going to teach actually should have been taught in your fifth year. However since Dolores Umbridge changed the curriculum, you were not taught as you should have been. This spell is very handy to use in a duel. It is the Smokescreen Spell. Watch me carefully for the wand movement..._Fumos!" _he said, moving his wand in an elegant spiral wave going upwards.

The next second, the entire room was filled with coughs, exclamations, and stinging eyes as the whole room became amassed in smoke. Professor Lupin performed the counter-charm, and then (as the none of them could see him before), showed them how to do it by replicating the movements.

He went into the pros and cons of using it in a duel, how it could be made stronger and incapacitate the opponent, or done in smaller bursts to just fill the air around their bodies to hide them.

It was actually a lot of fun, Ron thought. He enlarged the room so they had more space to work with, and divided the class into pairs. He put Ron and Hermione together, which was a relief. Ron was definitely going to go easy on her, and neither of them knew if anyone else would.

And as they left their classroom—many students practicing the spell to make small wisps of smoke appear in the air—Ron saw Hermione grinning in excitement once more.

Perhaps things were looking up after all.

* * *

The next few days after that were a whirlwind. Everyone was in a flurry of excitement for the upcoming Halloween Ball on Thursday. The jitters of the weekend's attack gave way to anticipation for the upcoming holiday. Nowhere could Ron go without hearing girls bragging to each other about their dresses or boys boasting about their dates.

Lavender in particular kept talking loudly when she knew Ron was within earshot. Apparently, she would be wearing pink dress robes (of course), and taking Seamus. The two were somewhat of an item recently and Ron sat down to breakfast on Wednesday with Harry with her going on about the new dress she bought.

Over them, steel gray clouds covered the ceiling, and a heavy fog was hovering just feet above their heads. Harry, Ginny, and Maggie McGonagall across from them were grumping about having to practice in this weather tomorrow evening—Ron would have joined them in the conversation if it meant he didn't have to take his eyes off Hermione.

That, in itself, was rather uneventful as it was his favorite pastime and something he had been doing for a very long time…not that he would ever admit it to anyone else, least of all her.

Hermione, however, wasn't talking. She was sitting in between Harry and Lavender Brown today, and when Ron could wrench his eyes from Hermione (which wasn't often), he looked over at Lavender.

The first time he did this, he was surprised to find her glaring at him. When she wasn't doing that, she was shooting daggers at Hermione. It took Ron a while to figure out why Lavender would be mad at her after everything that happened to Hermione over the weekend, but then he pieced it together.

_Is Lavender jealous of her?_

Taken aback, Ron spooned his oatmeal and stuck it in his mouth, thinking to himself. _Why would Lavender be jealous of Hermione? Is it because of the attention Hermione's been getting since she was abducted? But that's ridiculous...who in their right minds would _want _to go through something like that just so people will look at them? But then...what else could it be?_

It really wasn't hard to compare them—his ex-girlfriend and his girl friend. He'd thought at first that Lavender was prettier. She had taken to wearing heaps of make-up on her face, covering her eyelashes with gunk and making her lips and cheeks bright colors. At first, Ron thought that made her look pretty, with her facial features positively popping out. But now…next to Hermione's soft features and gunk-free face, he saw how beautiful Hermione was without all that stuff and he hoped she never wanted it on. Maybe a small bit he could handle, but not the copious amounts Lavender applied.

And it wasn't just the face—it was the hair. When he was dating her, Lavender told him that she could spend hours in the bathroom, fixing it up so it was just right. Not a hair out of place, all of it lavishly curled in big rollers, sleeked down to make it extra bouncy when she walked, topped with a different bow every day. But next to Hermione's own natural wild ringlets that twisted every which way and curled on its own and gave her a sort of halo about her head, Lavender's were nothing.

It was no wonder Ron couldn't stop staring at Hermione, which made Lavender none too happy in the least. She kept folding her arms crossly and scowling which, of course, made her look ten times worse.

But Ron especially loved it when Hermione scowled…that is, when it wasn't aimed at him.

Hermione's scowls always started the same way. Her nose would twitch adorably, her eyes would narrow, and her eyebrows arched perfectly. Then she would do one of three things: fold her arms slowly, her right arm under her left, and tilt her head up; or place her hands on her hips and put all her weight on one leg; or her fingers would tighten their hold on her books so that her knuckles were white, and she'd cast one more withering glare before stalking away.

However, when those scowls were aimed at him, as cute as they were, he always wished himself somewhere else.

He wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

_Should I ask her to the Ball? I'm not going with anyone. She's not going with anyone. We could go together…_

His heart sped up at that.

"Earth to Ron?"

Ron snapped out of his funk, blinking to see the others were staring at him.

"Er...what?"

"Class is starting in ten minutes. You coming or what?" said Harry, looking amused.

"Er, yeah, yeah," he said, hastily shoveling the rest of his oatmeal down his throat and grabbing a piece of toast for the journey. He followed Hermione and Harry as they walked down to the dungeons, but not feeling the normal detestation he usually felt before Potions.

For one thing, a huge chunk of the Slytherins in their class were gone, thanks to their own diabolical schemes. And for another, Ron found he didn't really mind Snape as much.

_Don't get me wrong, he's still a git. But he saved Hermione._

Confused a bit, Ron plunked his stuff down beside Hermione.

_Should I ask her out?_

_No...not ask her out...that would mean something more than it should be...just ask her to the Ball. As friends. _

_Would she laugh at me?_

He didn't think so, somehow. She hardly smiled anymore, let alone laughed.

_Would she say no?_

That was plausible. But if she said no, would that be the worst thing?

Why would she say no if he only asked her to the ball as friends?

Did she not want to be his friend anymore?

_No, that's just ridiculous. Of course she still wants to be friends..._

What if she wanted to go with someone else?

He paled at this, hardly paying attention to Snape's lecture about antidotes. Beside him, Hermione's quill was furiously detailing the lesson in her neat script.

_She has such neat handwriting. Everything about her is just so...neat. The way she dresses. The way she walks. The way she talks. Not her hair, of course. Her hair is too wild to be neat._

And suddenly he found himself staring at her again.

There was a scraping of chairs around him as his classmates got up, and he realized belatedly that they were supposed to be getting the ingredients for the potion.

What potion they were doing, however, he had no clue.

Hermione came back from the ingredients cupboard, setting the stash of nasty-looking things on the table beside their now-simmering cauldron. She grimaced as she took her seat, however, and he couldn't stop staring at how her hands clutched at where her scar was.

"Why don't...why don't you sit back and let me do this part," he said, worried.

"No, I can do it," she insisted.

"Let me, Hermione," he ordered. Immediately, Hermione sat back and put down the stirring stick. Pleased, Ron tried to read Snape's scrawl on the board.

"Here, pass me the salamander eggs," he said.

She passed the vial to him, and he measured out a teaspoon before dumping them in.

_Ask her._

"Will you hand me the doxy wings?"

_No, not that question._

She handed them to him.

_Ask her to the ball._

"Now you'll need to stir it clockwise for three minutes while I slowly add in the dragon blood," he said.

_Ask her, ask her, ask her._

At once, she started stirring. For three minutes, Ron carefully added the blood, trying not to get queasy. Hermione was turning whiter and whiter, though, and he was concerned she was going to pass out from the stench of blood.

"Okay, now stop," Ron said, as the timer ended.

At once, she stopped.

_Wait, why is she acting like this? Letting me...take charge? Normally she can be right selfish with the ingredients, for fear I will mess it up…shouldn't she be fighting me more?_

He shrugged. Maybe she really wasn't feeling well.

"Psst! Hermione, come here," whispered Harry from the next aisle over. He was paired with Neville, and they both seemed to have trouble with their potion. Ron looked over and saw that Snape had left the room. Standing up, Hermione walked over to Harry to help.

Suspicious, Ron watched her, then acted nonchalant when she came back over.

"What did he want?" said Ron, adding in a small pinch of white powder.

"Nothing," Hermione said, turning pink.

_Did Harry ask her to go with him to the ball?_

"Oh, come on."

_No, can't be, he's going with Ginny._

"No, Ron, that was between me and him," she said sternly.

_Unless...wait...did _Neville _ask her to go to the ball with him?_

"You can tell me, you know," he insisted.

_Please say you're still free, please say you're still free..._

Then, to his utter surprise, instead of getting mad at him for pushing and to bugger off, she told him. "He told me to ask you if you want to go to the Halloween Ball tomorrow as friends," she said, tone wooden.

_Yay!_

Blinking back his surprise, Ron was rather pleased with Harry.

"Well. Do you?"

"I don't...know. I was thinking of not going…" she said.

"_What?"_

"I just don't feel very good. My dress robes probably won't cover up my scar. It will last really late...I just don't know, Ron."

"Oh, please, Hermione, it will be fun. Tell me you will go?"

"I will go."

"...wait, what?" Ron stared at her, confused. "But you just said you didn't want to."

_Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, just take it! She said she wants to go with you!_

The confused look on Hermione's face didn't answer his question, but he didn't want to push it further. They both finished Phase Three of the potion, and sat back to let the antidote stew for a few minutes.

"Ron, would you mind?" Hermione whispered to him. She smiled, and Ron knew she was trying to distract him.

"Mind? Going to the ball with you? As friends? Of course I wouldn't mind, Hermione. You know I'd love that," he answered.

"No...I mean getting the Phase Four ingredients? I don't feel so well. I forgot to take my potions again this morning."

"Hermione," he lectured. "Why do you keep forgetting? This is the third time this week!"

"I don't know, I'm sorry. They make it hard to think straight, and they make me so tired. I hate taking them…"

"Well, why don't you ask to be excused from class? I can do this potion myself, you don't need to worry about me. I'm sure Professor Snape would understand—he was there that night—"

"It's not that bad, Ron, really I don't—"

There was a clatter beside them as Malfoy dropped his Potions book on the floor beside Hermione's feet. They turned to look at him, and he just stared at Hermione.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Granger?" Malfoy said suddenly, quite loudly. "Get my book for me."

There was abated breath in the room as everyone watched. Of course Hermione would just scowl at him and snap at him to get it himself. Or roll her eyes and ignore him.

But what she did astonished them all, and the pieces all clicked into place in Ron's head.

Hermione bent down, and picked up Malfoy's book, then plunked it down onto his desk. Ron was all too aware that she didn't snap at the Slytherin. She didn't glare at him. She didn't say anything. But there was something about the confusion on her face. The way her hands were starting to shake. And Ron realized what was happening the exact same moment she did.

"Hermione…" he whispered, once everyone had gone back to work. "Give me your wand."

Shakily, she held it out to him.

But he didn't take it.

"Look at me."

She looked at him.

"How long has this been going on?" he whispered, shocked.

"I don't know…"

"Yes, you do. _Tell me._"

"Since Saturday night," she immediately answered. "Ever since Dolohov had me. But I guess I didn't realize it until just now."

"_How could you not realize it?" _he hissed, astonished.

She looked like a mooncalf caught in wandlight.

"And is there a reason the pair of you refuse to work?" drawled Snape's cold voice behind them.

Guiltily, they looked up at him.

"Sir, she needs to leave. She's not feeling very well. Can she be excused from class today? I can finish this potion without a partner," said Ron. The politeness in his voice was startling. Both to him and Professor Snape, as well as everyone within earshot.

Snape looked down at Hermione, who colored under his gaze. There was a silence.

"Yes," he said tersely, then added in a louder voice, "_If_ Miss Granger thinks she is smart enough that she can ace the test next week without making the potion, which I highly doubt. Now get out of my sight."

"Yes, professor," she murmured, standing up with her bag. They all watched her as she walked out, and Ron couldn't help but feeling one-part worried and two-parts scared.

_Things have just gone horribly wrong._

For the rest of the lesson, Ron couldn't wait till class ended. When it finally did, he grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of the room.

"Ron, what—"

"We have to find Hermione."

They stopped at an alcove and Ron took the Map from Harry's bag.

"Hang on, I don't see Dumbledore on here. Why is he always gone?"

"Look, Hermione's on the third floor, see—"

"—and Lupin isn't on here either, seriously what the hell—"

"Ron, what are you on about?"

"Something is wrong with Hermione!" Ron hissed. "We have to find her and tell someone, come on—!"

He took off again, and Harry raced behind him. Up the stairs, down the corridor, up more stairs, down another hall, then more stairs again until they bumped into Hermione in a very busy hallway. Breathless, they all ducked into an empty classroom and locked the door.

"I tried to find Professor Dumbledore, Ron, but he isn't here," said Hermione, worried.

"I know, I looked on the Map," Ron said. "Lupin isn't here either. I don't know who we're supposed to tell."

"Madam Pomfrey, do you think—?"

"Could one of you just tell me what the _hell _is going on?" Harry shouted, frustrated.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

"Go on, show him," Hermione whispered, bracing herself.

"Just try to resist it, okay?" said Ron.

Hermione nodded. Harry watched them both, perplexed.

"Clap your hands," Ron told Hermione loudly.

There was only a moment's hesitation, then Hermione obeyed.

Ron's stomach sank. "Sit down."

She sat on the chair beside them, and Harry's confusion turned into worry.

"I don't know what's happening to me," Hermione whispered. "Why am I being forced to obey? I can't do anything to stop it."

"What...what does it feel like?" Harry asked, starting to pace.

"Like...being under the Imperius again. Only different. When you tell me to do something, Ron, my body just starts doing it without my permission. It's not that I am made to _want _to do it, like the Imperius, or like I start feeling good. My limbs just start moving of their own accord," said Hermione.

"It had to have been the knife," said Ron darkly. "Dolohov's cursed knife. When it cut into your skin, the curse mixed with your blood. I've...I've heard of a curse doing that before. It used to be really popular in pureblood circles hundreds of years ago. It was called the Angorian Curse. It made the victim be compelled to obey. Fathers would do it to sons, husbands would do it to wives. It's really sick, is what it is…."

"A-and you think that's what happened to Hermione?" Harry said, looking sick. They sat down heavily on the chairs.

_Someone...some damn righteous bastard is making her obey. Who...who does that to people? To Muggle-borns? _Ron thought, a fury rising within him that he hadn't felt for a while.

It was wrong. Sick and wrong and _Merlin_, was Dolohov going to pay for this...

Ron's grip on the chair beside him was unnaturally tight. He continued, "It makes sense, doesn't it? Dolohov couldn't take her outside of the wards because Dumbledore specifically enchanted them to make students stay _in_. When Dolohov tried everything he could to take her out, he had to change his plans. So he used his blade that was magicked with the Angorian Curse. It wasn't just him torturing you at all, Hermione. He was making you susceptible and sending you back to us probably with the plan to have McLaggen—maybe he didn't know that McLaggen was captured already—to compel you to leave the castle on purpose or something, where he would be waiting."

Harry's face was unusually pale as he straightened. "Well, Dolohov is captured, as is McLaggen. The Slytherins would be my next bet on who might be working for Dolohov, but the nastier ones are gone too, including Rowle, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Wilkes, and Urquehart. So hopefully with all of them cleaned out, the danger is past," Harry said, shrugging. "Maybe we don't need to do anything about it? Just make sure we stay with her at all times."

"That shouldn't be too hard," said Ron, agreeing. "But we should still tell someone."

"Okay…" Harry stood up and started pacing again. "We can't tell Dumbledore or Lupin, they are both gone. Jones obviously is...is...indisposed. Should we tell Pomfrey?"

"But what could she do about it?" Hermione asked. "Confine me to the hospital wing?"

"We could go to McGonagall," said Ron. "She could get the message to Dumbledore, and I definitely trust her."

They both nodded.

"McGonagall then," said Harry.

Their minds made up, the three of them left the classroom and went to find McGonagall. A quick glance at the Map showed she was in her office. When they got there, she was sitting at her desk, grading. It didn't take long for them to spill the news and demonstrate Hermione's forced compliance and Ron's theories about the Angorian Curse as well as Dolohov's cancelled plan for it. The appalled look on McGonagall's face said it all.

"Miss Granger, I want you to be extra cautious until we can get this figured out, do you understand? You do not have permission to leave the castle wards, and I forbid you from doing so, so that should take care of that. You may attend classes and meals, per usual, and you may attend the Halloween Ball tomorrow night, but that is it," said Professor McGonagall sternly. "Boys, be very careful with her. Make sure you stay with her and if anyone commands her to do anything, it is your job to tell her that she only needs to do what they said if she _wants_ to. This must be done immediately before she is forced to comply."

They nodded, looking serious.

"And under _no circumstances _are you allowed to violate our agreement or take advantage of this curse, am I making myself clear?" she barked. "If I see one toe step out of line, I will confine her to the hospital wing and permit any visitors until we can sort this out."

"Yes, ma'am," they said in earnest.

"I will inform the Headmaster at once. You may leave," Professor McGonagall said.

Alarmed, the three of them stepped outside and sighed.

"This is going to be difficult," said Ron.

Eyes wide, the other two nodded.

They didn't know how difficult until they went to their next few classes. There were four separate times that Professor Flitwick, bless his heart, commanded the class to do something that Hermione was the first one to comply; two times that he told the class to answer a question and Hermione started rambling off facts right away without raising her hand; and thrice during dinner that other Gryffindors told Hermione specifically to do something (like passing something) that Ron and Harry couldn't stop her from doing in time.

By the time they were headed up to the common room, all three of them were exhausted.

"This is a nightmare," Ron said, collapsing on his favorite armchair. "I mean, I love you, Hermione, but being your bodyguard is exhausting."

She smiled sadly. "Thank you though. Both of you. For trying."

"You don't have to go to the Halloween Ball, by the way...if you don't want to...I know I told you that you had to go before I knew any better," said Ron ruefully.

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione stated wryly, "Now that I have your permission…"

"Does this mean we can't go to the twins' opening?" Harry spoke up.

All the breath left Ron's mouth. "Shite. I forgot about that."

"I don't mind if you two go without me," said Hermione, uncomfortably. They both protested, and she raised her voice. "_No. _I really don't want to spoil your fun. They are really counting on you two to be there, and I could really use more sleep anyway. It's not supposed to end till late, and if I'm not allowed to go, there's nothing that says you two can't."

"But surely you could come too," Ron said, his voice coming out in almost a whine. "I mean, there's no more danger, Dolohov's been captured, we caught everyone that might be working with him—"

"Except Greyback," she contradicted.

They shuddered.

"I don't want to risk it, Ron," Hermione insisted. "Professor McGonagall said no excursions outside of the wards. She forbade it, actually. So I really can't go, unless someone specifically makes me. But _don't_—" she cut off Ron from replying that he could very well tell her to go "—you _dare_ tell me to go anyway. I don't want to risk it. I'm fine not going."

Dejected, Ron and Harry promised they wouldn't make her go.

Perhaps, thought Ron, things were not looking up after all...

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Well, I know this isn't "The Halloween Ball" but I actually found I couldn't squish it into this chapter (although I really did try). So sorry about that! But yay that I made room for the Gryffindor Tomb instead (although it really isn't as exciting as finding the Slytherin Tomb for obvious reasons...I mean, really, only Salazar and his ginormously big head could have fit into the Chamber of Secrets and send curses after All Those Who Enter). **

**The next chapter WILL have the Halloween Ball in it, just FYI. And never fear! We are nearing the end of this story. I have already said it will be 50 chapters, and I am sticking to my word. **

**Although...I did laugh at those of you who assumed the climax would only be a chapter long...I mean, seriously...that is SO not how I roll. You, my darlings, are going to be on one extremely bumpy ride. This chapter and the next are only the calm before the storm. Or perhaps...perhaps the climax has already started with the Quidditch Match, and we are only now in the eye of the hurricane? In any case, the climax is going to be at LEAST twelve chapters long, not counting the past few. I firmly believe that climaxes should be around 1/4 or 1/5 of the book.**

**Also! Did you notice that this chapter was only done in Ron's POV? Some people were asking for it! You're welcome.**

**So now it's time for you to tell me what you loved! What you didn't? Who you want to see next? Who you don't? What you are hoping to see in the climax? What you think the plan is for the climax?**

**Let me know!**


	37. The Halloween Ball

**THE HALLOWEEN BALL**

Halloween Day dawned gray and overcast.

"Happy Halloween, Harry," said Ron, waking Harry as he shoved his feet into his trainers. After getting their school uniforms on for the day, they went downstairs where Hermione moodily greeted them.

"How are you?" Ron asked, concerned. "The girls didn't try to make you do anything, did they?"

Hermione shrugged. "No worse than telling me to move over in the loo so they could do their hair and makeup. I'm fine, Ron."

Even though it had been just days since the Death Eater took her, nerves were still running high between them all. The Angorian Curse was a serious dampener and Ron and Harry had to resume their bodyguard positions once more as they walked out of the common room. Despite the fact that there was a ball and they were going to the twins' opening that night, Ron and Harry felt rather depressed.

They weren't the only ones needing a pick-me-up—everyone in the Great Hall was dismal. Ron, Harry, and Hermione sat down and felt a chill in the air from the drizzle above.

"It looks like we've still got a full day of classes," Ron said glumly.

"It's Thursday, why wouldn't we?" said Hermione. "The Halloween Ball will start right at sunset after the Halloween Feast, and then Fred and George's party will be just afterwards for you two."

"Will the ball and the party be guarded?" Harry asked. "Merlin, Ron, I wish you could just stay in the castle tonight with Hermione…where you'd be safe…"

"Not on your life," said Ron stubbornly. "I wouldn't miss their opening for the world! Besides there isn't any danger, remember? Nobody's trying to kill me anymore. Nobody's trying to kidnap Hermione anymore. And it's not a full moon, so Greyback is hardly a threat. Not to mention he's not even a Death Eater, and there's no way he can even get inside the wards since Dumbledore specifically spelled him out of them…"

"It would still make me feel loads better…" Harry muttered.

"It's all right, Harry," said Hermione, consolingly, her eyes softened. "The Order will be there at the Halloween Ball, and plenty of Aurors. Everything will be perfectly fine."

Just then, Tobias Rosier dashed into the Great Hall, his twin sister right behind him. Both of them had robes of skewed rainbow colors. Several people laughed aloud. The two of them, however, looked rather worried, and stopped before Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

"Hermione!" Tobias said breathless. "Quick! Do you know the counter-curse to the color-changing charm?"

"What—?"

"Mail's here," said Harry, glancing up. "What the—"

"Oh no!" Alexandra moaned. "We're too late!"

Ron looked up—and did a double-take. Among the morning owls that had flown all night to Hogwarts to bring their mail were a few dozen brightly-colored birds. At first, Ron thought they were tropical parrots—but nope. They were owls. Completely dyed in a myriad of bright colors.

And they were _furious._

The Great Hall split into laughter as the brightly-colored owls flew around, screeching in rage. Up at the dais, McGonagall was quite torn between cursing someone and suppressing a laugh.

Hermione looked at Tobias and Alexandra Rosier, who were both wearing twin looks of shame.

"What—did—you—_do?"_ she said, her voice low and pronouncing every syllable.

They cringed.

"It was an accident, I swear!" said Tobias. "We were just trying our hands at inventing something—it's what Fred and George told us to do—we're in the Prankster's Club—"

"The _what_ now?" said Ron.

"The Prankster's Club! Fred and George set it up last year just before they left in a shower of fireworks and chained broomsticks. There's us, and the Creeveys, and Amanda Smythe and her brother, and Meghan Freeman, and Seamus Finnigan, and—well, loads others—" said Alexandra.

"—and since the Weasley twins couldn't be here for Halloween, they told us to come up with pranks—and so we were in the Owlery trying to turn Dungbombs into Dyebombs and—"

"—and _apparently _it worked!" Alexandra wailed.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione couldn't hold their laughter in anymore.

The rest of the day was filled with pranks that the Prankster's Club orchestrated. In fact, by the end of classes, it seemed that half of the school had been initiated into it.

"Fred and George are geniuses," said Ron, after their Double Charms class had been cancelled—Professor Flitwick had been given a fake wand that shot out leaves and branches every time he moved it; within ten minutes into their class, the room had grown into a forest. "Although...I wish they had let _me_ into their club. Would've been fun."

"It's a good thing you aren't, you know—you're a prefect and—oh, what now—" Hermione stopped.

They were walking along the fifth-floor corridor when they passed two fourth-year girls trying to get into the Ravenclaw Tower. However, they couldn't seem to answer the riddle the bronze eagle knocker gave.

"_What's upside-down, but right-side up,_

_You use it when you take your sup,_

_It stares at you when stare you do,_

_And always will be useful too?"_

"I don't _know!" _one of the girls whined. "A mirror?"

"This bag is heavy. Hurry it up!" the other girl said.

"It's your reflection on a spoon," said Hermione airily. A door appeared for the girls. Hermione continued with what she was saying. "Anyway, I think it's all interesting, but believe you me, someone is going to get in trouble by the end of the day—"

"Er...Hermione...?" said Ron, staring after the girls. "...I don't think those were Ravenclaws..."

They weren't. By lunch, everyone had heard that someone broke into the Ravenclaw common room and threw the newly invented Dyebombs everywhere, spraying the bronze and blue room with Hufflepuff's yellow and black.

And all too soon, Potions class proved to be just as liable for exploding as everywhere else.

As soon as the entire classroom had sat down, Ron noticed all the Slytherins were on the far side of the room. He thought this odd, but just dismissed it. Slytherins were barmy gits, the lot of them.

An hour later, he wholeheartedly regretted this decision.

Snape had no sooner ducked out of the room for an urgent call when one of the Slytherins threw a firework into a Gryffindor cauldron full of Wart-Growing Solution. The potion exploded onto the nearby Gryffindors, causing warts to pop up everywhere. Harry, in particular, received a face-full.

To make matters worse, Draco Malfoy started singing something everybody recognized from their second year. It was the song in Ginny's old valentine that a cupid had sung to Harry...with a twist:

"_His skin is as warty as a fresh pickled toad,_

_His hair quite resembles a Kneazle_

_He makes me just sick, him and his sidekicks,_

_The Pothead, the Mudblood, and Weasel!"_

All in all, Ron was quite relieved when Potions had ended and they were escorted to their next class—finally wart-free, thanks to a special vial of Madam Pomfrey's.

It took forever, but finally—_finally_—the bell rang, signalling the end of classes; and everyone in the Great Hall sat down to their annual Halloween Feast. Ron couldn't stop laughing all the way to their seats. Probably at the sight of Harry covered in pimply warts. Ron hadn't got any—he was paired up with Hermione in the front of the room. Ernie Macmillan, Harry's partner, had got it much worse than Harry and had to stay an hour later in the hospital wing for swallowing the stuff.

All in all, after they ate their food and the N.E.W.T. years left to go get dressed for the Halloween Ball in the courtyard, Ron wholeheartedly agreed with Harry that today was the best day they'd had in a _very_ long time. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so much.

And with two parties to attend tonight, things could only get better.

* * *

Harry felt giddy as he saw Ginny come down the marble staircase in her rosy red dress robes, her hair long and in loose sleek curls, a feathery red mask on her upper face. He couldn't be happier that she was his date tonight. Standing at the bottom of the staircase in the entrance hall, Harry grinned as she came closer, and held out his arm for her to take it.

"You look so gorgeous, Ginny," Harry said.

Ginny's red lips pulled into a smile. "Likewise."

Next to her was Hermione, in her flowy white dress and the silky white dress cloak held together at her neck with a silver clasp, an elegant white mask curling around her eyes. She wore her hair in sleek curls, held back with silver clips, and the smile on her face was radiant. Harry could only marginally see the scar on her chest and was happy that she was still able to cover it up.

He nudged Ron with his elbow when Ron still hadn't said anything. He stood beside Harry, in black dress robes that actually fitted him this time, and a black mask on his face. He was just staring at Hermione, but at Harry's nudge, remembered himself and cleared his throat.

"Wow, Hermione, you look..._wow," _he stuttered.

Her cheeks grew rosy under the mask. "Thanks, Ron. You look very handsome in those black robes."

"Much better than fourth year's ugly maroon ones anyhow," Ron said with a chuckle.

Ginny snorted, and Harry and Hermione both laughed.

There was a manicured-nail tap on Ron's shoulder, and Harry saw a very pink-dressed girl standing with a green-robed boy. Their masks obscured their faces somewhat but Harry could tell by the hair that it was Lavender and Seamus.

"You look very nice today, Ron," she said, glancing him over and forsaking her usual _Won-Won._ "You too, Hermione. No hard feelings between us, I hope?"

Startled, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, before Ron said amicably, "Definitely not. You look stunning, by the way. Take good care of her, Seamus."

Seamus grinned and saluted. He and Lavender strolled down the candle-lit corridor that led to the courtyard, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off after them. The bats flying about above their heads were a bit ominous, and Harry's heart fluttered as he remembered that it was Halloween, a very foreboding night.

But he found he really couldn't care less.

Ginny was his.

They followed everyone else out into the courtyard. As soon as they got there, the girls gasped. It was decorated most extravagantly for the night's festivities. The orange sunset behind the courtyard set the tones and the mood. Bats flew just above their heads, floating candles hovered around them, and all the ghosts were invited. Charmed spiders and webs galore were decorated around the stately columns and Harry could hear the dancing music and masked couples paired off on the dance floor, sixth and seventh-year students in their dress robes and gowns all in every color of the rainbow.

For the next hour after that, dancing was mostly what Harry and Ginny did. He found he just wanted to hold her tightly and never let her go. But let go, he did, as he and Ron both took it in turns to dance with Hermione so she wouldn't feel left out, per Ginny's hissed request.

A fast song ended, he and Ginny migrated over to the drinks table where Ron and Hermione were laughing over something Luna said.

"Hello, Harry," said Luna, just as Harry spotted her coming up to them. "You two make a nice couple."

Harry and Ginny smiled at each other. "Hello, Luna."

"Are you and Ron together then, Hermione?" said Luna innocently.

Ron colored. "No! No...no. No, we're just friends."

"I think one 'no' would have sufficed," Hermione muttered.

"Oh, I see," said Luna, nodding sagely. "Are you going to the Ball with Viktor Krum, Hermione?"

Hermione's face fell. "No. I don't think he's woken up yet."

Harry glanced at Ron, who was scowling at the interchange, and knew he should step in. Harry offered his other arm to Hermione, who grinned and took it. "She's going with us, actually. Who're you going with, Luna?"

Luna smiled and smoothed her pretty, silver dress. "But that would be telling, wouldn't it…"

"I sure hope the twins' Halloween party's inside," Neville said then, coming up to them. "You lot are going too, right?"

"Yes. Though it's unnaturally cold out tonight," said Ginny, shivering.

"What's unnatural? We're coming into November. There's already frost," said Harry, although he offered his robe to Ginny, who took it gratefully.

"She's right," said Luna. She cocked her head, as if listening to the wind. "It just...feels different. Like something's pushing it...or like somebody made it. Well, I better go find my date. He's being very moody today."

She wandered off.

"Strange, that one," Ginny commented, shaking her head.

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Ron. "I think she's rather—"

But what exactly Ron was going to say was lost, as Fay Dunbar came over and asked him to dance, and Harry was left alone with his thoughts once more.

It really was chillingly cold. Harry regretted not bringing warmer clothing. His black dress robes were long-sleeved, but he wished he had on a pair of mittens. Maybe an earmuff. It was still fall, but the cold wind blew around them fiercely. The clouds were dark and brooding though for once not threatening another storm.

"Ohh, I love this song! Come dance with me, Harry!"

And once more, Harry was swept up in the gorgeousness that was Ginny.

After several more dances, Harry could see Hermione and Ron arguing across the dance floor. A moment later, they were both interrupted as Dean Thomas cut in. Gratefully distracted, Hermione smiled and accepted his dark, outstretched hand. Dean at once took her away, fluttering around the courtyard. Scowling, Ron sat heavily on a chair and put his head in his hands.

Harry gingerly made his way over to Ron and sat down beside him.

"Sooooooo…" he began, in way of conversing.

"She told me she wants to go dance with other people." Ron was stunned. "There is no way I'm going to just sit here and watch that. They might tell her to go jump in the lake! But I'm her bodyguard so I can't just leave her. And it's not like I can just follow her around the dance floor, I'd look bloody ridiculous!"

Harry said, "Well...I know this doesn't actually solve your problem, but I don't mind watching her while she dances with other people. I highly doubt any of them would be rude enough to say something like that. They probably don't know who she is, anyway, everyone is masked. You should go have a break."

"No," Ron said stubbornly. "I don't want her dancing with him."

"Ron? This is _Dean _we're talking about. He could smooth talk the ears off an erumpent."

"I don't care. What if he tries something and you are too far away to stop her from obeying? Or what if he wants to...you know...hook up with her? All he has to do is say 'Go out with me', and she would have to say yes."

"Can't say you really blame her, can you?" Harry spoke haltingly. "You haven't really given her a reason to say no to him. You haven't told her you like her, you haven't asked her out, you haven't done anything. Except, of course, ogling her, which you've been doing ever since we've been here. For the past few days, really. Ever since…"

"She was abducted. Yeah." Ron's ashen face said it all. "I know I haven't said anything to her yet. I keep meaning to. And then...well, shit keeps happening, doesn't it. I brought her here though, didn't I? I just wish...I just wish we were here together...as _more _than friends. Harry, I think I might be…."

"In love with her?"

"Yeah…"

They both sat, stunned at his words, watching the blissfully unaware Hermione dancing with Dean Thomas and laughing. She really did look pretty, Harry realized. If he wasn't so infatuated with Ginny, and if Ron hadn't so obviously been as into Hermione the past few years as he had been, (and of course if he didn't actually think of her like a sister), Harry really wouldn't mind a future with her.

The thought of Ron falling in love with Hermione pulled at his heart, but not too kindly. Visions of them going off together to do things without him made him feel dismal and...left out. Besides, it wasn't a for sure thing that Hermione would want to go out with Ron too. Though they'd been fighting less and less and it had been weeks since their last row, Harry couldn't help but feel that a storm was brewing.

"You don't really think he'd force her to do anything, do you?" Harry asked. "Dean, I mean."

"No," admitted Ron. "He's too nice. Bloody bastard."

"Yeah, he is nice...graceful too," Harry noticed.

"Oh, really?" said Ron sourly. "I thought he looked more like a butterfly's trying to fly out of his arse."

* * *

Hermione was definitely on edge.

Ever since she realized what exactly Dolohov did to her, she was jumpy, always looking over her shoulder, forever worried that someone would get mad at her and tell her to go dive off a cliff.

It was completely nerve-racking.

Add to that, she and Ron had another little tiff. It hadn't been anything, really…she wanted him to dance with her and he didn't want to dance, so she said (stupidly) that maybe she ought to go ask someone else to dance then, and he had a cow. She didn't mean it really...why was she always saying stuff just to infuriate him?

_It's because if I don't, he won't step up and do what needs to be done. I can't always be the one commanding him to kiss me, to hold me, to tell someone thank you. I'm not his mother, it's not my job to tell him what to do. I just need him to step up and do those kinds of things on his own. Without me asking him or reminding him. Why can't he just figure out what needs to be done and do it, for once? _She thought, still frustrated with him for not asking her to dance._ Why does it feel like I have to do everything in our relationship? _

_Why is he always fighting me? Why can't he ever fight FOR me? _

Their brief squabble only lasted a few seconds before Dean Thomas smartly intervened. At first, Hermione was more concerned about whether he would command her to do something. But, seriously...this was Dean Thomas. Hogwarts' resident Prince Charming. Dancing with Dean was nice. He was always so easy to get along with. A really good friend, and he was doing a good job of making her laugh, after his initial questions of concern and asking what had happened when she was abducted.

Hermione had just finished dancing with Dean Thomas (luckily who was so polite that she wasn't made to do anything at all) when a tall, masked boy appeared at her elbow.

"May I have her—thanks—" the boy said rudely, and grabbed her elbow before she or Dean could object. Before she knew it, one hand was in hers, the other on her upper back.

He had a white phantom mask on, but the white-blond hair was noticable anywhere.

"_Malfoy?" _she hissed. "What are you—"

"Dance with me," he demanded.

She swore as her body obliged, and before she knew it, she was dancing around the room with the masked Slytherin. Looking around to see if anybody was watching whatever the hell was happening, Hermione couldn't find Harry or Ron anywhere. The courtyard was too crowded, all the boys looked the same with their black and white dress robes and their masks, and this masked Malfoy was purposely steering her around the fountain and behind some hedges.

_Calm down. This is fine. He tried to save you on the Quidditch tower, didn't he? You could even thank him for that while you have him..._

"What, was I interrupting anything?" he said snidely. "Things heating up between you and Muggle-loving Thomas? My, my, Granger, you are positively making the rounds over at Gryffindor tower. Is Longbottom next?"

Her nostrils flared. Her gratitude flew out the window when she saw what was really going on. _So Mr. High-and-Mighty's just come over to pick a fight, is that it? If that's what he wants, then that's what he's going to get..._

"Yes, as a matter of fact, he and I were just talking about how Pansy wished she was dancing with him instead of you," she said, poisonously sweet.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Please, like I care about Pansy. She's the Slytherin tart, I wouldn't be surprised if she weren't shagging him by now too."

Hermione colored at the reference.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I know what Dolohov did to you. I know about...the blade. And the curse on it."

Shocked, Hermione's movements slowed, but the curse bade her continue.

"That day in Potions," she said, "That was you testing it out, wasn't it?"

"I was told to make sure it worked," he admitted, face stony beneath his mask. "I was also told to make sure you leave for Hogsmeade tonight."

"I swear to _hell, _Malfoy, if you make me do anything—"

"Fuck, I wasn't going to, all right? I don't know why the hell I'm even doing this, but...I was going to do exactly the opposite," Draco said, finally looking her in the eyes.

"You expect me to believe you?" Hermione snapped, then lowered her voice again when she some dancers looked over at them. "Then why are you forcing me to dance with you?"

He scowled at her. "You know, I thought all the prancing around you've been doing was enough for you, Granger," he said. "But no—you keep making stupid decisions and getting yourself almost killed every bloody week. You are making it ridiculously easy for Dolohov to get to you. How many times does he have to try before you get your know-it-all arse into hiding?"

"I have not been—" She sighed, frustrated. "Why do you even care, Malfoy? I thought a pureblood like you would rather die than dance with a Mudblood."

He scoffed. "I don't care. Why, is your favorite little Weasel jealous?"

"Don't call him that! You know, it's no wonder you hate Ron so much—he's twice the man you'll ever be! Every time you look at him, it must sicken you as you realize just how much you will never measure up. How, for all the Galleons in the world, you'll never be the man he is," Hermione snapped, fed up with his petty digs at Ron. But if she thought that was a bit below the belt, she changed her mind with his next words.

"You think it takes a man to want to be with you when you're dressed like that?" he hissed, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Trust me, all you need is any boy past the age of puberty. You're wearing practically nothing, that dress looks fairly laughable and, to be quite frank, you look atrocious—"

"_Atrocious? _I will not listen to something so unreasonable and selfish and—and—_pathetic!" _she said, trying to wrench her hands away from him. Fortunately, the curse allowed it because she already had danced with him.

"Stop!" Malfoy said, face furious, and pulled her in closer.

Hermione stopped. Several people looked over at them. Hermione was too irate to even care, and Malfoy was too caught up to even notice.

"I just thought you might want to be warned about the Dark Lord's plans for you," he hissed. "You don't want your favorite little Weasel getting caught in the crosshairs, do you?"

"What...what are you talking about?" Hermione breathed.

The look in the Slytherin's eyes was guarded. "Something is going down tonight. In Hogsmeade. And if you knew any better, you'd be as far away from it as you can."

"_What? _If something is going to happen in Hogsmeade tonight, then I have to stop it," she whispered. "I'm not going to just cower and hide in my room like a good little girl while Harry and Ron and a _third _of the student body are going to be there! Tell me what you know, Malfoy!"

"You know that curse only works one way," Malfoy said with an eyeroll. "You damn bloody Gryffindor, if you go into Hogsmeade tonight, the Dark Lord is going to—"

He stopped abruptly, lips pressed.

"_To what?"_

Clapping around them erupted as the song ended and the band took a break from their instruments. Hermione and Malfoy stared at each other, cheeks pink, as neither of them was willing to relent. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw the familiar ginger head of Ron pushing his way through the crowd to get to her.

"Tell me what's going to happen, you bloody git," she swore. "Is something going to happen to Ron? Or to Harry? _What is Voldemort planning?"_

"Oh, fuck," Malfoy hissed, staring at Ron coming closer. Then he pulled her in close and hissed like a snake in her ear—

"_I forbid you from going to Hogsmeade tonight. You will go straight to your room and stay there all night. You will not let anyone find out I danced with you, you will not tell anyone of what I've told you, and if they try to find the truth, you will lie."_

Her jaw dropped. She stared at him in fury, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Fine," she whispered dangerously. "You want me locked away in the bloody tower? Well, _my lord, _you got your wish. Come and find me when you've finally learnt how to stop being such a bloody arse!"

Draco Malfoy just stared at her, his face stoic, no emotion in his eyes. "It's for your own bloody good, you know. No need to thank me."

And then he was gone.

Hermione stood there, stunned. _What the hell is going on? What the hell am I going to do? Something is going to happen, and I can't stop it…_

_Something is going to happen to Ron and Harry and I can't do anything about it._

_What the hell am I going to do?_

She couldn't stop the tears, but luckily her mask soaked them up and hid them from view just as Ron approached her.

"Hey! Are you all right? I'm sorry I lost you, this crowd is really thick. Can't find Harry either. Did you just dance another song with Dean? Nobody made you do anything, did they?" Ron asked, all rather fast.

Hermione tried to say yes, but that is not what came out. "No." Her words sounded detached. Disjointed. Hermouth opened again, and before she knew it, words came out of her. She didn't know what words until she heard them. True to Malfoy's command, her tongue was lying for her. "Nobody made me do anything. Ron, do you mind if I go to bed now? I'm really tired."

Her legs were already forcing her to move...to go back to the tower...per Malfoy's request.

"No, that's fine," Ron said, blue eyes earnest, walking with her. "But...do you...could we...I mean. Do you want one last dance before we go? I promised you'd have a great time tonight, it's the least I could do…"

Hermione couldn't stop the tears from coming. Of course she wanted to dance with him. But Malfoy's demands forbade it.

"_No, _Ron," she lied again, and it came out far meaner than she meant it to. But her damnable lies weren't done as her tongue betrayed her further. "I don't want to dance with you, all right? I just want to be alone."

His face was crestfallen. "All right. Let's go. I'll...I'll walk you back to the tower."

He took her hand so they wouldn't be separated again, and started pushing through the crowd, going the long way around the dance floor.

_I have to break this curse. I have to tell someone, _she thought frantically, searching around the crowd. But everyone wore masks, and she couldn't tell who she could trust. Was that Mad-Eye Moody by the punchbowl? Mundungus Fletcher talking to Professor McGonagall? And who was that beside Professor Snape? (Him she could tell if only for the fact that he was refusing to wear a mask). She thought she saw two tall redheads, one sporting a ponytail, that might be Bill and Charlie Weasley. And a balding man next to them...Arthur?

Ron passed by the two tall Auror guards that had accompanied them to the ball, Williamson and Dawlish. They noticed Hermione and Ron leaving, and followed them.

_I have to tell someone!_

At once, Hermione tried shouting to them, to tell them something was wrong. But the moment her mouth opened, it was shut tight against her will and not even a muffled noise escaped her.

The entire way back to the tower, Hermione kept repeating that question in her head. _What the hell am I going to do?_

She couldn't stop the tears from falling. But her silence on the way back up did not go unnoticed. Every time Ron asked her if everything was okay, of course more lies just slipped right out. She wasn't allowed to say one truth from her own mind. Furious at herself and stupid bloody Malfoy, she tried to think of ways around his commands. Perhaps if she wrote it down on a paper, that wasn't the same as telling? What was she kidding herself, of course it was. Perhaps if she were to tell a ghost, that wouldn't be the same as telling someone alive? But of course, as soon as they passed the Grey Lady, Hermione couldn't make the words come out to her either.

And when they finally got to the common room, Hermione was swearing up a storm in her head that would have impressed even Ron. The two Aurors left them at the portrait hole, not allowed to enter, and Ron pulled her through the opening.

"Thank you, Ron," she whispered as they walked to the girls' staircase. "I'm sorry I was rude before. I didn't mean it to sound like that. I really loved going with you tonight. You're a really great friend."

Thankfully, the curse still allowed her to apologize and be kind. She tried to wipe away the tears without him noticing.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, worried, looking over at her again. "You're not acting like yourself."

"I'm...I'm just sad that I can't come with you into Hogsmeade," she said, although this time there was some truth to it. "Please—"

Her lips clammed up. _Merlin abroad, I can't even tell him to stay here! What the _hell _am I going to do?_

"Be careful?" Ron finished for her, knowing exactly what she was going to say. "Of course I'll be careful, Hermione. Always am, aren't I?"

She couldn't return the rueful smile that crept up on his face. Her legs were making her go up the stairs, and she edged up them, not wanting to leave him. He was so handsome...Merlin's pants, she loved him in nice dress robes, and he looked so innocent and warm and inviting and ...

_I can't let anything happen to him, _she thought, and a small sob escaped her. _I love him! I can't let anything happen to him! I can't let him go, he has to stay here where it's safe!_

"I want you to—" she started to say. But instead of finishing that sentence with "stay with me", the insufferable curse changed the words to "—have a good time."

_Damn it! _she swore, and couldn't stop the tears from falling right in front of him.

"Hey, it'll be okay..." he said softly, brushing his hand on her face. "Merlin, you're beautiful, Hermione…"

She was startled by his gesture, and brought her hand up to his.

_I can't do this. My legs are killing me, they hurt so bad, I have to go._

"Ron, I—"

Her lips clammed up yet again, and she couldn't finish what she wanted to say. Just the thought that something might happen to him…

His thumb caught the tear that escaped from her mask. "Hermione...may I…"

She had to get upstairs. But his face was leaning closer and, _Merlin, _he was going to kiss her—

"I can't," she gasped, lips less than a centimeter from his own. "I can't, Ron, I...I...I _have _to go…"

The moment only lasted a second, as her legs jerked her backwards, farther up the stairs, tearing her away from him. Shocked, Ron dropped his hand and backed away.

The hurt on his face stung her. It bore into her mind, drilling into her skull, and she couldn't breathe, but she couldn't _tell _him—

"Why?" he asked, voice breaking. "What could be more important than..._us?"_

But her legs were taking her away from him, backing up the staircase one step at a time as she tried with all her might to fight the curse.

The lie stole out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Because I don't like you," she whispered.

At once, she was shocked.

_Take it back. Take it back, take it back, take it back! I didn't mean it! I like you, I do, I like you, Ron!_

The lie hung nastily in the air between them, forcing them further apart. Hermione closed her eyes, and more tears spilled out.

"You can't…" Ron stuttered. "You can't mean that. Is someone...is someone making you say that?"

_Yes!_

"No," Hermione lied, and the next lie forced out of her mouth sounded cruel to her ears. "I came up with it all by myself, Ron."

He stepped back, shocked. For once, at a loss for words.

_Ron, don't listen to me! I'm lying! _she thought desperately, trying Legilimency in vain. _Find out the truth! You're in danger if you leave. Everyone is! Tell me to come with you. Tell me to go to McGonagall's office. Or Snape's. If someone could just read my mind, that wouldn't be telling and I could…_

But as much as she tried to make the words come out, her lips wouldn't open, stuck together as they were by Malfoy's strict command.

And then he turned around, and walked in shocked silence out of the common room.

* * *

_She doesn't like me._

_She doesn't like me._

_She doesn't like me._

The words kept repeating in his head. But no matter how many times he thought them, they didn't appear any less true.

"_Because I don't like you."_

"_I came up with it all by myself, Ron. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."_

He ignored the depression that was setting in at her words.

"_I don't want to dance with you, all right? I just want to be alone."_

She didn't want to be with him.

_She doesn't like me..._

* * *

Hermione couldn't take it any more.

Her legs forced her up the stairs to her room, in obedience to Malfoy. As soon as she was in her empty dorm room, she tried to turn around and go back out the open doorway, to no avail.

Furious, Hermione tore off her cloak and threw it on the floor. She ripped the mask off her face and it landed beside her cloak. Her bed was neatly made, so there was nothing for her to throw in her anger except her shoes, which she hurled with vindictive strength at the newly-reinforced glass windows. They simply cluttered to the floor, however, with only a clumping sound.

Still not satisfied, she threw herself onto her bed and screamed into her pillow, and fully gave way to the tears, sobbing in earnest.

How long she lay there crying, she didn't know. Minutes…hours...

Her hands finally uncurled from fisting the blanket and moved to wipe the hair away from her wet face. It was only then that she saw the envelope on her maroon duvet. Warily, she picked it up and saw her name on it in Dumbledore's scroll.

_Why would the Headmaster send me a letter while he is away? Does it have to deal with what Malfoy said about tonight?_

Heart thudding, she blinked through the tears, tore through the seal and opened it.

What she read turned her blood cold.

* * *

_She doesn't like me._

The terrifying truth to that statement numbed him. He tried not to think about Hermione.

For one thing, he had misgivings about leaving her alone in her dorm room. Not for the first time, he thought about staying there with her. But what could he do? At best, he'd just be in the common room while she was in her room sleeping. It's not like he'd actually be able to be with her. He wished he could stay with her in her room. If they were together they could…

He shook his head, erasing that thought from his mind. _We're not together. She doesn't like you that way. Hell, she didn't even want to be with you. _

_You're never going to have her._

Her words from before echoed in his mind. "_I don't want to dance with you, all right? I just want to be alone."_

Dejected, he sighed.

_She'll be okay. She is alone in her room, and by the time the other girls get there, she'll probably be asleep. Plus, Lavender's in a forgiving mood, so she won't likely start hurling insults and commands at Hermione._

_And her window has been doubly warded against anyone wanting to do harm, done by Dumbledore himself. He fortified every bit of defense in the Gryffindor tower. Probably all the common rooms, just in case. Even the Fat Lady's been given extra security measures. If Greyback is able to get inside Hogwarts' wards, there is no way he'd be able to get to her._

_Not to mention, Dawlish is still with her. He'll be standing guard outside the common room all night. _

_Dawlish will protect her._

_She'll be fine._

With Williamson trailing him, Ron went back to the Halloween Ball.

He hadn't been there more than ten minutes, however, when to his and Harry's horror, Professor McGonagall pulled him and Harry aside privately and said they were forbidden from going to Fred and George's opening in Hogsmeade.

He and Harry were outraged. They pleaded, they coaxed, their voices raised until the nearest dancers were all looking over at them…but she was adamant.

"There is still a werewolf on the loose!" she'd said sternly, silencing their protests. "Not to mention You-Know-Who may be waiting for the perfect opportunity to ensnare the pair of you. I forbade Miss Granger from going, and I know that you two aren't compelled to obey like she is, but I want your promise that you will stay here in the castle where it is safe!"

"Yes, Professor," they muttered grudgingly.

"Thank you. I truly am sorry, boys. But safety comes first," she clucked sympathetically, then turned away.

"This is bollocks," Ron swore.

"Yeah," said Harry glumly. "Well. You know how we can fix the problem, don't you?"

"How?"

Harry pulled out a small glimpse of silvery fabric from his pocket. The Invisibility Cloak.

Ron grinned, until that nasty thought came back.

_She doesn't like me._

The smile slid off his face.

An escape plan in place, Ron and Harry just had to wait for the perfect exit. Ron talked with his brothers about how sad he was that he couldn't go to Fred and George's party, he chatted with Dad, he even made sure to talk loudly in Mad-Eye Moody's general direction, making a mental note to steer very clear of the grisly Auror once he and Harry were under the Cloak's protection.

And after the ball ended, and some students started leaving for their dorms, Ron and Harry made a big show about being sad and trudging up the stairs with them. They waited till they were out of the eye of Moody, then ducked into a bathroom, purposely leaving the door open about two feet. Williamson parked himself in the hallway, standing guard while they ducked into a corner of the room and threw the Cloak over themselves.

"Wait, where's my—"

"Have we always been this tall?"

"Dunno. I can't find the Marauders' Map…"

"You must have left it in our dorm. It's fine, we don't need it—"

"Ouch, you're stepping on my foot—"

"_Shh!"_

And then they were off.

They snuck off to meet the other N.E.W.T.-year students who were collecting outside of the Hogsmeade tunnel outside the third-floor corridor. Standing quietly in the back, Harry reached a hand out and tugged on Ginny's hair.

She looked around, annoyed, until Harry hissed, "Hey, it's us!"

"Harry? Ron? Is that...is that your..._cloak?" _she whispered, eyes trying to find them while her hand reached around the air subtly.

Professor Snape, who was standing at the front, did not look pleased to be their caretaker in the least. The black-haired professor strode out into the tunnel, and Ron allowed himself to feel one ounce of respect for the slimy git for saving Hermione and bringing her safely back.

"You all right, Ron?" Harry whispered, as he held Ginny's hand. She probably looked rather ridiculous, but the Aurors accompanying them hardly noticed.

_She doesn't like me._

"Yeah," Ron said, trying to smile. "This'll be fun. Let's just go."

They followed the rest of the students down the tunnel.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**If I wasn't so tired, I'd probably be a bit more chatty. Oh, here's something. Every time you read a chapter, listen to this ominous music. It's what I write these scenes to, and I love it! Really sets the mood: **

watch?v=JQ-RuCCGtUg&list=PLPq1wn42NtCRMlecUYZWsD9T4gzcemVsG&index=5&t=5583s

**As always, let me know what you think!**


	38. Masquerade Madness

**MASQUERADE MADNESS**

She walked down the staircase, a stony look on her expressionless face and the Marauders' Map held tight in her hands. The common room was empty, so nobody saw her open the portrait hole door, save for the Auror Guard on the other side of it.

"Miss! Why are you out of bed? Your orders were to—"

He didn't see the wand held in the folds of her white dress, nor did he hear any spell uttered as he fell to the stone floor with finality from her non-verbal curse. Stepping over him, she levitated his body into the common room's closet. Then she continued on her way. Her blank face betrayed no emotion as she walked down the corridors, not even lighting her wand to see. Her bare feet padded softly on the cold stone, but she had been told not to feel anything. So she didn't.

She had a job to do.

The stipulations of her orders were different than what they had been before. After the Ball, Malfoy had ordered her to lie when anyone talked to her. She hadn't even had the merit of choosing what the lie was. It would slip right out of her mouth without her permission. Now, however...well, now she didn't even have the freedom to talk her way out of this situation.

Her orders, instead, were to attack.

It didn't take her long to find Professor McGonagall, who was just coming back to her office and quarters after the Halloween Ball. Of course she waited until after the professor had entered and unlocked her quarters before the girl made her move. Her modified stunner went straight into the professor's back, making the older woman fall to the floor.

But Hermione didn't have time for emotions. She levitated Professor McGonagall's unconscious body into the room and locked her in there.

After almost running into a pair of prefects patrolling a nearby corridor, Hermione took care of them as well. Next she found Professor Flitwick, who was overseeing the decorations being taken down after the ball. She had to stun him twice, since even part-goblins were made of thicker skin and their magic protected them even better than wizards' magic did. But she didn't have to bother levitating him anywhere. Sticking him underneath the table and letting the tablecloth hide his body was sufficient.

The same went for Professor Sprout, who was helping him. Although the Hufflepuff head of house opened her mouth as soon as she saw her aim the stunner at Professor Flitwick, the Hufflepuff's shock was enough to halt her from casting a spell on her right away, allowing the student to quickly overcome the teacher.

This task met, she opened the Map and scanned it. Jones was in the hospital wing, of course. Snape was in the village, as were a few other teachers. There was no Lupin, no Dumbledore, which left only Hagrid as the last teacher out of his rooms and walking abroad in the castle.

But how to attack Hagrid…? His thicker skin was far tougher than a goblin's, so spells were a non sequitur. Very well, she would have to think of other means to take him down.

With a plan in mind, she walked down the marble staircase and to the entrance hall, where the large half-giant was guarding the front door.

"Her-Hermione?" he asked, staring at her in disbelief. "What're yeh doin' down here? Yeh know better than to—"

"Please! I need help," she said, twisting her face into dismay that was obviously not felt. No guilt surfaced however. Her orders were, after all, to take care of the teachers in the castle, by any means necessary. This was necessary. And if she played her part right...he wouldn't have to die. "There's something wrong with Harry! He's not moving!"

"Harry? Well, why didn' yeh say so?" he roared, following her down the corridor to an empty, windowless classroom. "Where is he—"

His back was turned when she cast the Expelliarmus, and his pink umbrella soared to her.

"_Hermione—!"_

But without a word, she locked him in the classroom, transfiguring other blocks of stone into more locks until the door was so heavily guarded that an erumpent couldn't break through, nevermind the half-giant. Still, the door hammered from his fists, until a few more spells ensured nobody would hear him or see the door shaking on its hinges.

Emotionless, she walked away, intent on completing her task.

Next, there were the prefect patrols to take care of. She knew the schedules like the back of her hand, and within no time at all the fifth, sixth, and seventh-year prefects from their prospective houses were locked in classrooms or closets, tied up, unconscious, and wandless as well. Not to mention, she had quite the collection of wands at her disposal.

Her task done, she climbed the stairs to the library. None of the portraits on the wall thought to object at seeing her walking into the library after hours. She was a prefect, after all, and the library's most frequent visitor. Everyone trusted her.

The library was empty. This was only to be expected. She didn't know why the Headmaster was gone all the time. Nor did she care. It was the rules of engagement, after all. She was told not to care. So she didn't.

She walked through the shelves and shelves of books, her bluish wandlight the only form of light in these deep, dark recesses of the wooden maze. Her bare footsteps made nary a sound on the lush carpeted rugs. She had only her white dress on, her arms bare without her dress cloak. But she had been instructed to leave her room right away. There hadn't been time to get fully dressed for such an excursion. At least she'd been holding her wand at the time, or may have been forced to leave it too.

She reached the thirteenth, and last, closeted carrel, and stepped into the darkness. It wrapped around her body like a cloak as she walked to the portrait on the far wall of Rowena Ravenclaw. The password had already been told to her, of course. She walked inside the tomb, eerily lit in bluish hues, and carefully took the diadem off its shelf, taking great care not to touch it as she wrapped it up in a transfigured scarf per request.

Before she could see him, she sensed him. Poisoning the air around her like a dementor.

Still, she turned around and took in his presence. A full head taller than her and covered in black robes, his face was that of a masked Death Eater. The voice was clear to her. She knew who he was, though no emotion came through at the knowledge.

"You do not know who I am, nor will you remember meeting me when you leave this room. You will only remember your orders," he intoned, voice deep, and at once his identity was wiped from her mind. "Hand me the gift and the Map. And show your betters the respect they deserve, Mudblood bitch."

She stoically presented him with the founder's gift and the Marauder's Map, and lowered her face in respect. The respect was not felt by her, of course. He simply demanded she show him.

"Good work," he said, appraising her as he took the veiled diadem. "And I trust you had no problems with the teachers and the prefects?"

"No, sir. They've been taken down and locked up, as per your request."

There was simply silence after that, as he stared her down. Then his voice reached her one more time. "You will not tell anyone what I have told you this night, even if they command you to. You will not let anyone know that something is wrong. You will act like yourself. You will go to the entrance of the Hogsmeade corridor and go through it. After you are through it, I want you to destroy it. Then go through the tunnel to Hogsmeade and find Ronald Weasley. Lure him into a secluded place. _Then kill him_. You will feel no love. You will feel no emotion. Only blind obedience to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"There's a good girl," his voice almost purred at this. "Now leave."

And so she left, and the entire engagement was wiped from her mind as she made her way to the Hogsmeade corridor.

* * *

When Ron first walked into his brothers' joke shop, he laughed aloud.

A roar of sound, colors, fireworks, bangs, and screwed magic greeted them. If they had thought the outside of the shop, with it's enormous display, was a sight for sore eyes, Ron was definitely not prepared for what greeted them inside. It was as if Fred and George had taken every color in the world and jammed them into their shop. The Hogsmeade streets outside, now getting darker for the storm, were black and white compared to inside.

It was completely packed with Hogwarts students, Hogsmeade villagers, and wizarding products. There were cages full of animals Ron had never seen before, Skiving Snackboxes, trick wands, loaded quills, cool magical toys that hung themselves or squirted things out at unsuspecting customers, and hundreds of other gadgets. Ron noticed the biggest thing the twins' had going for them in their store was all the magical displays showing off their products and what they could do.

Harry and Ron took off the Cloak, and it was stuffed back into Harry's pocket again. Ginny left to go look at their WonderWitch products while Harry drifted over to the Patented Daydream Charms.

Standing in a corner, Ron's smile slowly slid off his face as he remembered Hermione once again. _She doesn't like me._

"Wow, Ron, look at this!"

He migrated over to Harry and tried to look interested as Harry told him about what the charms reminded him of.

Just then, Fred and George Weasley appeared out of nowhere and sauntered over to Ron and Harry.

"Ah, Harry, Harry, Harry," said George, putting both arms around Harry and Ron. "I have come to tell you that everything in this store is yours. Whatever you want—take it. No pay, no permission required. After all, you practically own this place."

"Wicked!" said Ron.

"Oh, not you. Just Harry. He's the money behind the magic, after all," said Fred.

"What—I'm your brother—"

Fred leaned in, eyebrows waggling. "Got a few thousand Galleons in a wandbox under the bed, have you?"

"No..."

"Then sorry, little bro. You see, in our store, it's quite like the Slytherin Quidditch Team. You lot have to buy your way in. _We're_ the only ones with pure talent!" said George, reminding them of Hermione's words to Malfoy their second year.

Ron scowled as they passed Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan who were trying out the Muggle card tricks.

"This place is great, you guys," said Harry, grinning. "How do you do it all? Come up with new ideas and manage the orders you're getting now, plus running the shop, and trying to set one up in Diagon Alley..."

"True, true, our busy, successful lives have squandered our time—"

"To be sure, to be sure—"

"But we have found alternatives to our hectic schedule, young Harry!" said Fred. "Chiefly, two very pretty witches whom we have recently hired to keep our shop safe—"

"—and themselves, you must know, safe from us—" agreed George.

"Why, Ron! Have you tried our new Kissing Kumquats?" said Fred, shoving a plate under Ron's nose.

Hermione at once sprung into his mind. _She doesn't like me. _The thought again pierced through him, and Ron tried to shrug it off and answer his brother.

"No—gerroff—"

"George? You have a call!" said a pretty witch with short, blonde hair and sporting the same magenta robes the twins had on.

"Coming, Krystal, my dear!" said George, winking at them and bustling off.

"He's got her, don't you know," said Fred, puffing himself up. "Of course, I've still got my Angelina. She takes care of the place while we're on business. Mum doesn't know we're shacking up, though, and you two had best not tell her!"

Ron rolled his eyes, while Harry grinned, saying, "Who, us? Never…."

His footsteps slowed as they continued, and Ron let them get ahead of him. He tried not to think of Hermione, but all this talk about kissing and who the twins were dating…

_She doesn't like me..._

Fred gave them a tour to the upstairs (which held more products and giggling teenagers) and the basement (which was where they tested all their products). He told them all about their Defense Against the Dark Arts line, which they had patented under the name "Potter Protection". There were Shield Hats, gloves, cloaks, umbrellas; Decoy Detonators, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, the list went on. Ron and Harry in particular wanted to look at these products, especially after hearing how the Ministry was using them.

Then Fred showed them to the adjoining shop.

"Now, we specifically got the shop next to Zonko's so we could outshine them—"

"Business tactics, you know!" said George, rejoining them.

_She doesn't like me._

"—and after we sold them out, we bought their place! It took two Sickles and a dying hag to connect these two joints, and now—_voila!"_

They had come out of a short, crazy-colored tunnel in between the two, and stepped into WWW's other premises.

Ron gaped.

Instead of the fun shop that they had up until now visited, Zonko's had been transformed into a party room. The walls were still lined with their merchandise, but there were several purple chairs and couches. The tables were piled high with their line of sweets—quite a few giant canaries were walking around the room, as well as students with nosebleeds, sporting colorfully spiked hair, horse-tails, blue tattoos, and three-foot tongues.

"Feel free to party and enjoy!" said the twins over the blasting music—the Weird Sisters were blaring on magical speakers.

"This is brilliant!" Ron shouted.

Over the next hour, the party room filled up with more and more people. The music changed to bouncy dancing music—Fred and Angelina orchestrated rather rowdy Scottish dancing in the middle of the floor. A very stark contrast to the waltz music at the Halloween Ball.

Ron hovered on the edge of his seat, watching them. It looked like a lot of fun—but his conversation with Hermione soured it, and depression quickly set in.

Then, just when they thought things couldn't get any more interesting, Fred and George brought out a new round of treats and passed them around.

"That large one sure looks tasty, doesn't it, Ron?" said Fred, angling the platter so the large treat was closer to Ron. He looked at the twin shrewdly and took the smallest one. Fred looked disappointed.

"Hey, these are rather good," said Neville, finishing his off. "What do they d—?"

There was a burst of smoke that covered Neville.

When it cleared, Neville was standing there in a pirate costume. His brown hair was several feet long, he had actual facial hair, he was sporting a captain's hat, and a real wooden leg. Even Trevor the Toad had turned into a bug-eyed parrot that croaked.

The entire room burst into wild laughter and cheered.

"Aye, aye, _Cap'n_!" Ron said amidst the hollering.

"Hey!" Neville tried to say, but it came out as "Arrr!"

"Presenting!" said Fred loudly. "Our infamous Muggle Maskmallows!"

"Wait for it…" George whispered to Ron.

And just as suddenly, the whole room was filled with bangs and smoke as everyone accumulated costumes and outrageous accents.

Ron hooted with laughter as Harry's body shot up to be a foot taller than even Ron, his skin grew green, screws popped out of his head, and ugly scars appeared everywhere, not to mention his normal lightning scar stretched out to be twice its size when his forehead became far more prominent.

"You're Frankenstein's monster!" said Fred, grinning. Harry couldn't stop grunting as he tried to force his arms down—they were made to stick straight out.

Ron chortled. "I guess you'll always be covered in scars, mate."

"Pity you didn't get the Muggle Superman one we tried to plant on you, Harry," said George ruefully.

Harry grunted.

"What's Super—" Ron suddenly stopped talking as the smoke encompassed him. When it cleared, he looked down to find himself in armor bearing a full shield—he was a knight. "_Cool!"_

Ron marveled at his reflection in the shield. A full red beard covered his jaw and upper lip, and he guffawed. _So that's what I'll look like when I grow facial hair, _he thought, impressed. _Looking rather sharp! _A swirl of smoke surrounded his arm and materialized into a sword. "Wicked!"

"I tried to give him that clown one—would have been much better suited," said Fred in an undertone to his twin.

Luna sprouted gypsy earrings, bangles, hippy skirts, and shawls. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team sported black and white clothes and became a chain gang. In the corner, Maggie McGonagall transformed into Margaret Thatcher, the old Muggle Prime Minister, while Katie Bell became some famous Muggle singer with an afro.

There was a sudden shriek in the corner—Ginny fell to the floor, and Ron's jaw dropped.

Her red hair grew twice as long from her head, her legs were stuck together under a green-scaled fish's tail, she had _fins_ for feet, and instead of a shirt, she was wearing nothing but cleverly-placed seashells.

Harry's eyes grew big, making him look more like Frankenstein than ever.

"I'm going to KILL you!" Ginny screamed before throwing hexes and jinxes at the twins. "Put me back NOW!"

A group of boys who turned out to be the Blues Brothers laughed uproariously as Ginny tried to get back at Fred and George. After fifteen minutes of this, they had her take another Maskmallow and the mermaid costume disappeared, replacing even longer hair and a flowing pretty dress and crown—she had turned into Queen Guinevere.

"Well, certainly don't want to miss all the fun!" said Fred, after Ginny's shrieks had subsided.

He and George stuffed a biteful of Maskmallows into their own mouths. After they quit smoking, the room laughed to find they had both shrunk to about three feet tall, their features oddly squashed and their hair bright blue, with matching outfits.

"Who are you?" said Prince Charming, who turned out to be Dean Thomas.

"I'm Thing One!" said Fred.

"And I'm Thing Two!" said George.

* * *

Harry did not care for his costume.

There were huge drawbacks to being the larger-than-normal giant walking around a foot taller than everyone else, he was quickly finding out. It didn't help that he couldn't talk very well—his words kept turning into grunts instead. And for the life of him, he couldn't get his arms to go down.

_If I could just find out where Ginny went, at least this party would be somewhat better, _he decided, looking around for her again.

He finally found her on the other side of the dance floor, breathtakingly gorgeous, with her red hair long and flowy, and a medieval emerald green dress hugging her curves until it flowed down to the floor, and _Merlin, _did he wish he were that dress right now—

But then he saw who she was dancing with, and he caught a breath. She was dancing with a demon. No...not a demon...a Zacharias Smith, garbed in red devil robes and real horns popping out of his head.

The jealousy that erupted in him was astonishing. He tried forcing it down. After all, he guess they'd never said they were exclusive...but shouldn't that be obvious…?

_Relax, all right? They're just talking. Talking never hurt anyone. It's probably about something menial like schoolwork anyhow...or how much he hates me...or maybe she's asking him about whether he is the Hufflepuff heir... _

That would actually be a good thing. Really, they should have done it ages ago, sniff the Smiths out and see what they knew about their lineage. Of course Zacharias was probably boasting about it now...

All this, however, flew clean out of his mind when he saw Hermione enter the room, still dressed in her white dress, sans robe, from the ball. And she was surprisingly barefoot.

_What the hell? She knows it's not safe, not to mention she was forbidden by McGonagall to come…_

"Hermione!" he called out. Only...that isn't what came out of his mouth. Juts more grunts. Annoyed, he opened his mouth to try again and was rewarded by something that sounded more like "My knee."

But for some odd reason, she ignored him and walked straight by him, eyes very focused on something across the room.

"_Hermione!" _he tried again, but she kept on.

_Oh, she probably doesn't recognize me in this stupid costume, _he realized, following her.

"Hermione, stop!" he commanded, inwardly wincing from commanding her, but drastic measures and whatnot.

She obeyed, though her face remained aloof when she caught sight of him, and he started pulling her over to a corner where they could have privacy.

"Sorry, but you weren't listening," he said.

That isn't what he heard though. Just grunts and a very low guttural moan.

Frustrated, he tried again, and his heard his own words this time. "What are you doing out of the castle?"

Hermione shrugged as he pulled her. "I was bored, so I fancied a walk and—what are you doing, Harry, I can walk by myself—"

His stupid meaty, monstrous hands were gripping her tighter than he meant to, and he let go.

"But you don't have any guards! McGonagall said—"

"Everyone had already gone down to the village, Harry, I couldn't find anyone to ask, you'd already taken the Cloak, and I couldn't find the Map. Besides, nothing happened—"

"Did someone make you?" Harry asked, alarmed. "Did Lavender or Parvati tell you to come down here?"

"No," said Hermione stonily.

"But that's irresponsible!" Harry hissed. "I can't believe you would just waltz on down here when you were almost killed—"

"I didn't waltz though, did I?" said Hermione, interrupting with a rather blank tone. "I walked."

"Hermione, that's—but that's completely beside the point—George, back me up here—"

George, who'd just been passing through, was none too keen on getting in the middle of anything, and really was more amused that Harry, of all people, had to be the one to lecture Hermione, of all people, on _responsibility_ to have been of any help, anyhow.

"I don't have to answer to you, Harry," Hermione snapped, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

"My, my. You need a pick-me-up. Maskmallow for the murderess?" said George, shoving the platter in between them.

"_No, _George," said Hermione, trying to move around them. "I'm busy."

"Oh, you know you want to, darling. Take one," George pressured with a grin, and Hermione at once took it before Harry could stop her. She stood there, holding the treat rather mechanically.

"Uh-uh," George said admonishingly. "You actually have to eat it, you know, no throwing it away when I'm not looking! Now, what seems to be troubling you?"

George put his arm around her shoulder while she ate it, trying to distract her from asking him too many questions about what she just ate. Harry rolled his eyes. _Oh, well. Turning into something more fun might just make her liven up a bit. Don't know why she's in a mood, anyhow. _

"You calling me murderess rings a bell," she said, eyes narrowed.

"Well, it was either that or She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and we all know just how insensitive that name would have been in such perilous times," George deadpanned. "But everyone knows that's how you behave when you're on the warpath. Now who will you be murdering today, dearie? My little brother do something idiotic again?"

Harry shuddered at the thought of Hermione killing someone while under her curse. "Hermione is not going to kill anyone tonight," he said swiftly, coming to her rescue. "And does not need to be told what to do in the slightest."

_Merlin, there's too many people here who might tell her to do something, _he realized with dread. _Why is she even here, she must be daft! It's not like the Halloween Ball where you can only dance with one partner and still be in the safety of the castle. There aren't even any guards inside this party, and with everyone in costume and forced to say ridiculous things, there's a far more likelihood of her being forced into something. How in the bloody blue blazes am I going to keep her away from people?_

George looked quite put out that Hermione hadn't disappeared in a puff of smoke yet.

It didn't help George any that Harry drew her aside and said in a low voice—"Listen, we can make you temporarily deaf or something if you'd like so you're not so suggestible. Plus, that was a Maskmallow you just ate. You're not going to want to transform in front of people, it's bloody embarrassing. Just go wait inside the closet by the bathrooms."

Hermione nodded. "I have to tell you something, Harry," she said. "I need you—"

But the next second, the confusion was wiped away as she saw something behind Harry's head, and the stony expression replaced it. Harry looked behind him to see what had caused the abrupt change in her behavior, but didn't see anything amiss.

He turned back to Hermione, but she had slipped away.

"Well, shite…" Looking around for her, Harry finally saw her turn the corner towards the loo. He was about to follow her down the hall when someone stopped him.

"Harry! Can I...can I have a word?"

Cho Chang, still herself and looking very fetching in her blue dress robes, was at his elbow.

"Er…I'm sorry, Cho, I'm really busy with something right now..." he said, but only grunts came out.

Really beginning to curse the Weasley twins, Harry tried again.

"_Please, _Harry! It's important!" Cho pleaded, and Harry saw in alarm that she was crying. The feeling of dread in Harry's gut amassed. _I told Hermione to wait for me, and she has to obey...It's not like she is going to go anywhere. This should only take a minute..._

Unsure, Harry glanced over at Ginny, who was still talking animatedly with Smith, and said, "Er, yes, Cho, sure…"

They walked over to the Potter Protection shelves, and Harry felt rather ridiculous, standing next to a statue that had his own big head. But at least as Frankenstein's creation, he was able to talk more and grunt less, and his arms were sagging down from the Maskmallow charm starting to wear off.

"I...I needed to tell you something...but I was worried about how you would react…" Cho said, her pretty features devastated by her news. She kept twisting her fingers and looking anywhere but his face.

Alarmed, Harry's attention fell fully onto her. "It's all right, Cho. You can talk to me about anything. I promise I'll be fine about it…"

"You're not going to be fine about this," Cho whispered.

* * *

Ron was standing by the snack table, talking with Neville when he saw Harry walk off with Cho Chang, the bleeding temptress. At once he was suspicious, not wanting Harry to muck things up with Ginny. What in the world could Cho want with him? It certainly didn't promise anything good, especially if Ginny saw him talking to her—

_Well, should I go and interrupt them? Help Harry save face? Or should I go distract Ginny, just in case she sees and flies off the handle, thinking it is something it isn't?_

Peering over the heads of people and stroking his beard (something he found he couldn't stop doing), Ron tried to find where Harry and Cho went. He lost them amidst the aisles.

He swore.

"What?" Neville asked him, noticing how distracted he was.

"Nothing, I just...Merlin, I wish Hermione were here..." he said. "She'd know what to do."

"Arr, matey," Neville growled, his costume getting the better of his words.

_Maybe I should go back...tell her how I feel...even if she doesn't feel the same, I just...I need to get this off my chest. I have to tell her what I feel about her, I have to tell her how long I've felt this way. At the very least, she could tell me why...why she doesn't like me…_

"Er, sorry, I meant to say something different," Neville tried to say again, cheeks pink. "I meant to say, Hermione _is_ here. I saw her come in. I think she went to the loo."

"She _what—"_

But his words were interrupted by his own actions. On sudden impulse, Ron thrust out his sword and waved it above their heads.

He stopped in surprise—_where had that come from?_ Opening his mouth to tell Neville he was going to go find Hermione, the words that came out instead were—

"I now depart on a dangerous quest to go save my fair maiden!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "And if I find her enslaved, then I shall rescue my damsel in distress! _What ho!"_

As soon as he said it, he turned red. Everyone stared at him. And then the room laughed, and several dwarves pointing at him started to make fun.

"Or...something to that effect..." Ron finished, embarrassed.

"Ron, you sound utterly ridiculous," said Neville. At least, Ron thought that's what he said—it was hard to hear over his pirate swear words and sailor shanties.

"Oh, fucketh off…" Ron sneered at him as he clunked away.

It wasn't until he passed by Hermione several times that he realized it was her. She was sitting in a dark corner and he couldn't see her too well—the visor on his helmet kept falling into his eyes.

"There you are! Hermione, why are you even here? I thought McGonagall forbade you to come? Did someone make you?" he asked, concerned, throwing her recent rejection of him to the back of his mind. There were more important things, after all.

"I—I have to—"

But her mouth shut hastily, and suspicion boiled in his brain.

_I don't think she's here of her own accord, _he realized. _But why would someone make her leave the tower and send her here? And who would?_

He knew he couldn't ask her, at least not with her being able to answer. He'd just have to come at it from a different angle. If someone had ordered her out of the tower and not to tell anyone who or why, then it was up to him to figure it out on his own.

"Well, I mean, if you are here anyway, you may as well come and join the party. Did you take one of those sweets? What did you turn into?" The questions tumbled out of his mouth.

"Oh, is that what this is? It's bloody annoying..." she said, ducking her face. He still couldn't see much of her because of the shadows. But something was glinting behind her back...

"Why? Did you turn into a cat again?" he said, recognizing her behavior. "You know we don't care if you suddenly sprout fur and a tail! What kind of friends do you think we are?"

"Ron, please, I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay here. Besides, Harry told me to stay here—"

The words were out before he even knew he was saying them. "Come, my fair lady! Hide your shame no longer. As long as you stay by my side, I swear you will come to no harm!"

"_What?" _she said, alarmed, stepping into the light.

At once, Ron could not see why she wanted to hide—she was easily the most gorgeous girl in the building. Hermione was wearing a big, beautiful, yellow ballgown that went remarkably low in the bodice. She had make-up on, her hair was pulled up, sleek and curly, falling off her shoulders and down her back.

"I'm sorry, I can't...I can't seem to stop talking like a medieval knight," he said. "What are you?"

"Apparently, I'm Belle from _Beauty and the Beast,_" she said, face crimson. "It's a-a-a Muggle animation."

Ron did not know who or what the hell she'd just said, but she certainly got the beauty part right...

For one long moment, they stared at each other.

"You're a knight," she said, appraising him.

"And you're beautiful," he said, without thinking.

Her eyes grew round.

"Er—sorry—I've been saying things like that for the past ten minutes. It's the costume—not me—" he said, trying to cover up his blunder.

The smile slid off her face.

"So...are you going to come out? Fred says these only last for a good hour or two."

"I suppose. I just...don't want anyone to make fun."

"They wouldn't. Not in front of me, anyway," said Ron, winking. "I've got a sword!"

The grin she gave him didn't quite reach her eyes.

For his part, Ron could not stop ogling her. She looked—_brilliant_. Not like she was a different person...but like she was completely without flaw. He never really noticed how her eyes shone when she smiled, how tan her skin was under the light, how pretty her hair was, how red her lips were—

He stopped. _I'm just staring at her lips. Did she notice? There is definitely something wrong with me._

Whatever was glinting behind her back was gone as soon as a group of boys came into the corridor for the loo. When they came into view, there were several catcalls. Hermione made to turn back around, but Ron held her fast. King Kong jeered at them and reached out for her with large dinner-plate-sized hands.

"A foe!" Ron suddenly cried. He wrenched his sword out of his scabbard. "Come and fight, atrocious ape-man! You dare to impugn the honor of my maiden? Out, sword! I shall challenge whosoever dares to insult the queen of my heart—the lady of my soul—"

Hermione seized his sword and shoved it back in its sheath. Both of them were now a brighter shade than Hermione's lips. It was probably a good thing that the boys ducked into the loo before Ron could make more of an arse of himself.

"Thank you," said Ron weakly. "I swear, it's getting worse."

The music was loud with a pulsing beat, and the lights kept flashing rather annoyingly. But in their secluded corner of the shop, Ron was determined to get to the bottom of why she was there.

"Listen, Hermione, we need to talk. Look, I know that someone told you to leave Gryffindor tower. I know you wouldn't be down here, disobeying McGonagall, if it wasn't something important. Can you tell me who it was?"

"Ron, I—"

But she clammed up.

Worry engulfed him. He was starting to understand these tell-tale signs rather well. "You have to tell me something, don't you? Does it have to deal with why you are out of the tower?"

The lack of fear in her eyes—the lack of any emotion at all, really—was evident. She slowly nodded, hesitation garnering in her features, like she wasn't sure if the curse would let her respond.

"All right...we can do this...like twenty questions," he said, thinking fast. "Let's try this first: I command you to tell me what is so important."

It didn't work. She just stared at him, and he realized that her stipulations were to not tell anyone else, even if they said otherwise. _Well, at least she obeyed Harry and me tonight about the closet. That's a good sign. Otherwise, we'd have found out she'd been commanded to not obey anyone else, which would be bad. I don't think there'd be any saving her from that._

He said that aloud, and she nodded in response.

"I think I can still obey others," she said. "So it wasn't that. It was—"

Her mouth shut, and Ron felt the need to swear. Merlin abroad, she really couldn't talk about it at all.

"Okay, was it a teacher or student?" he asked.

To his surprise, she answered "I don't know."

"Was it a boy or girl?"

"I don't know."

"Did you see them?"

"I don't know—"

Ron furrowed his brow when her mouth shut again. "Not a person, then...or at least, if it was, you either couldn't see them at all or they told you to forget or something. Was it a Patronus? A ghost? An Animagus? A...a...Howler? Or a note?"

The tiniest twitch of her nose, sent Ron's hope soaring. "A note then! And what does the note say? Do you have it on you?"

Of course she couldn't answer that, as it would be telling, but Ron saw her fist crumple even more than it was, and that's when he realized the note was still in her hand. But how to get it from her? She would have been commanded not to let anyone see it, but his smart girl would have brought it with her instead of destroying it or hiding it, as her own form of defiance.

In a quick lunge, Ron grabbed her hand and pried her fingers open, tearing the piece of paper from her clutches.

The flash of assent in her face was all the go-ahead he needed. Ron uncrumpled the paper, smoothed it out, and read it.

* * *

In truth, it wasn't quite as horrible as Ginny expected it would be.

She kept tripping because of the confounded heels, however, and her gloves kept threatening to slip off. A few boys kept asking her to dance (at least, she assumed they were boys—with everyone in costume, it was rather hard to tell), and it wasn't like she could dance with Harry, whose arms were permanently stuck out. So she took a spin around the floor with them, and she was now exhausted.

She excused herself from an Egyptian mummy and headed for the drinks. She had to laugh when she saw four familiar faces—John, Paul, George, and Ringo were busy sulking in the corner. Dad was a big fan of the old Muggle band and had made her listen to them on more than one occasion. Beside them were Hannah Abbott as Goldilocks, Parvati Patil as Snow White, and her boyfriend as one of the dwarves.

Luna the Gypsy broke away from the crowd and appeared at Ginny's side.

"I was told I shouldn't come," said Luna in her spacey voice. "But I did."

Ginny grinned. "The twins are always good for a laugh, that's for sure. I'm glad you came, anyway. Whoever told you was a git."

"Some think he is," Luna said. "But I think he was right tonight. Something's going to happen, you know. He's coming tonight."

Ginny stopped and looked at her.

"Oh? Who's coming, Luna?" She grinned. "Is it that boy you fancy? The one you went to the ball with?"

Luna opened her mouth, but was interrupted by a clown-faced Ernie Macmillan.

"Ooh, look! Kumquat!" he said, reaching around them.

"Milady, may I have this dance?" said Prince Charming, holding his hand out to Luna. She smiled and took it, and they disappeared.

Confused, Ginny stared after Luna. _What does she mean, something is going to happen? And who's coming tonight?_

She started to follow her—after dodging a puckered up Ernie who had fallen to the Kissing Kumquat's snares—and came face to face with a vampire.

"I haff been looking for you! Vant to dance vith me?"

For one alarming second, Ginny thought it was Viktor Krum. No longer comatose? But that couldn't be. She didn't recognize him, at any rate. He took her hand and guided her along to the middle of the dance floor. A slow song had just come on. He put his other hand on her lower back, and they glided along.

"Sorry," she said. "What's your name? I don't recognize you..."

"Michael Corner," he smiled wryly. "I haff fallen to Veasley and Veasley's charms, I am thinking."

She had to admit, looking at him rather freaked her out. She was taken aback—he didn't look a thing like his regular self. No long hair, for one...it was all black and completely sleeked back. And his accent for another... He had black clothes and really red lips that couldn't quite cover his fangs.

Ginny saw Harry over by Cho Chang, and he was staring at them, a stony expression on his Frankenstein face. She inwardly groaned, hoping he wasn't going to make a scene.

"You are most glorious," Michael said, looking down at her. "That dress is most becoming on you. I do not see vy you are vanting to hide yourself avay in moderate clothing ven you could more often look like this."

She pursed her lips, remembering how they broke up. "Michael, you know I'm with Harry. I don't like you like that anymore—"

His hand pressed her hips more into his, and his fingers slid lower down onto her rear, and Ginny knew her face was flaming. She tried to pull away, but he held tight.

"I am, most emphatically, _not interested _in you that way any more, all right? So back off!" she snapped.

He leered at her. "Oh come on, you know you still are. I vould move to kiss you now, Ginny, if these fangs veren't in the vay."

"Like hell," snarled a voice behind her, and Ginny whirled to find Harry, who brought his fist back and punched Michael square in the face.

"_Harry!" _she shrieked.

Michael stumbled away, clutching his red cheek, glaring at Harry.

Whirling on her boyfriend, Ginny's face was red. "What the hell was that? We were just talking, you _arse!_ I was handling it!"

Harry scoffed. "It didnt' look like it from here! You've been dancing around with a parade of guys the entire time we've been here! You know they're just dancing with you because you look—well—"

She raised a brow.

"—because you don't look too bad in a dress!" he finished, cheeks turning pink. "You know that, don't you?"

"Oh, really?" she said coolly. "You didn't look like you gave a shit while Cho was throwing herself at you. Or when you were chasing after Hermione!"

The hurt on his face was palpable and Ginny wondered if maybe she had gone too far…

"What the...you _know _that Hermione is like a sister to me. And Cho wasn't throwing herself on me, she needed—"

"She _needs _to get over herself, is what she needs!" Ginny snapped. "What the hell is her problem, coming on to her ex-boyfriend like that?"

"You have no right to be jealous, Ginny, after what you've been doing—"

"Are you sure _you're_ not just jealous because Michael used to date me? Or is it because he actually knows how to snog a girl and not just latch on like the giant squid?"

Her brain did a face-palm. Why, why, why was she picking a fight with him? And standing up for _Michael Corner _of all people? This conversation wasn't going so well, but she was far too furious with Harry to care.

"Ginny, please. Why are you even with Corner? He was looking at you like you were a—a—" he spluttered, "—like he wanted to suck your blood! How could you even dance with him? Have you even noticed that all the guys can't stop staring? You're just parading around, dancing with anyone who looks at you twice."

"You think I'm just 'parading around', Harry? It's not like I can dance with you," she snapped. "You look ridiculous, you weren't asking me to dance, and you were far too into Hermione and Cho to bloody care what the hell I was doing! Would you rather I just hide away forever just because you don't have the balls to ask me?"

She and Harry had never fought before. They had been together for almost a week and she was really hoping her fiery temper would hold back a little longer. But Weasleys just didn't know how to cool their own flame.

There was a loud bang, and more smoke filled the room. Cho Chang had just turned into the Queen of Hearts in a hideously black and white dress, a staff in her hand, and a large crown on her head. And she looked livid.

All of a sudden, Ginny felt like she was in some sick and twisted fairytale.

Clowns, zombies, monsters, characters alike spun around and around the dance floor...and now the black-haired prince she thought she had fallen in love with was now a glaring monster.

She turned away with an undisguised fury, pushing past the Wicked Witch of the West and Captain Hook to get to the back door near the loo.

"I need you, Hermione!" she barked at her yellow-gowned best friend, who was almost hiding in the corner with Ron.

"But—"

"_Now!"_

And as she fled the room, she heard the Queen of Hearts howl after her—

"OFF WITH HER HEEEAAAD!"

* * *

It was dark when he walked the empty halls of Hogwarts, a sneer on his masked face.

Everyone else was either in Hogsmeade or not old enough to attend and safely tucked into their beds in their dorms. The teachers, of course, were indisposed, thanks to the Mudblood; and he had himself already taken care of quite a few of the Auror guards, thanks to Borgin's generosity. He rather had this entire tower to himself.

_Now that the fool is gone, I can do as I please, _he thought, ascending the seventh staircase.

He knew where the nearest Aurors were and how to make sure they stayed unaware of his plan. He knew of the extra enchantments surrounding Dumbledore's office and how to get around them. He also knew that if there was anything remotely interesting to the Dark Lord in that office, it would be nigh impenetrable. However, what he was seeking now was such a trivial thing...something the old man wouldn't think to safeguard…

_But if he did, I now have the one thing that will allow me undisturbed access._

He glanced down once more at the Marauders' Map in his hands.

His way was clear. And his newest asset was proving most useful, he saw.

Passing the stone gargoyle, he crept effortlessly up the stairs to the office. Sweat gleamed on his forehead as he entered the grand room of Albus Dumbledore. Death Eater or no, he was no fool. The elder wizard could kill him with the blink of an eye if he were to be caught.

_And that is why I won't be._

He pulled a bag out of his pocket and released it. In an instant, the moonlit room plunged into darkness. The Instant Peruvian Darkness Powder worked its magic as the portraits in the room were blinded. The ones still awake cried out, waking the others.

Armed with the Hand of Glory, he made his way through the office, ignoring the cries of what was going on.

What _was _going on, even he did not know. The Dark Lord had entrusted him to spy on Snape, to see if he was the traitor in the Dark Lord's midst. It was really quite by accident that he had stumbled on the group of Gryffindors in the library and overheard their most..._interesting..._story. Although he had only recently been initiated, even he knew that his Master was fixated on finding something the Death Eaters did not understand. Ever since the Dark Lord established their new headquarters at the dreaded, haunted Isle and told them to find weapons that were said to be hid there. Ever since the Dark Lord began work on unearthing the ancient stones that lay in the heart of the Isle. Ever since the Dark Lord told him to seize the sword of Gryffindor that was hanging in Dumbledore's office, even.

He withdrew a vial of blood from an inner pocket in his robes. With great care, he uncorked the bottle, the metallic smell wafting out of it. He was extremely grateful to the dragon for letting this blood come about, and now he had exactly what he needed.

He poured the blood over the sword, not knowing exactly where it would unlock, or how much was needed, but he needn't worry. A second later, the sword began to mildly glow, a keening sound filling the air as the blade started to vibrate…

In awe, he reached out and grabbed it, holding it aloft as it glowed and hummed...and then it died off.

This was the mission his Master had given him.

He tucked the sword safely into his bag, and stepped away from the mantel.

His own mission, however...

He had heard the story that the Mudblood bint had told weeks ago about the heirs and the gifts. And when he told it to his Master, the Dark Lord had been very interested, indeed. Everything that he had suspected before was now fact, he'd said. And then commanded his most faithful Death Eater (yours truly) to go and fetch him everything he needed from Hogwarts. The sword...the goblet...the diadem...the locket.

He had the sword now, of course, as well as the diadem. He even found the goblet as well, thanks to his skillfull eaves-dropping. And the locket? It would be...forthcoming.

His recent acquirement would ensure it.

And the way to take them out of the wards…

Well, that had been the most difficult part. Dolohov himself could not even have achieved it, nor could Greyback, or even Bellatrix. The Dark Lord hadn't even entrusted this to Snape, considering his feigned loyalty.

_But they did not have the information I possess. And it was all thanks to the Mudblood's trunk I stole._

Of course, the Dark Lord also wanted their most esteemed guests. That had been much harder to plan, considering the amount of times that Dolohov had tried and failed, the old bastard.

_But I have much more going for me than damnable Dolohov. He couldn't even get the Mudblood princess out of the wards. It's all thanks to me that everything is running smoothly and on time. It was my plan to make her obey me, after all._

_And now the Dark Lord is waiting, and it should all fall right according to plan._

_My past...indiscretion...will be forgiven. And the Dark Lord will have a new favorite. Bellatrix is, of course, just his bitch. Dolohov will be in Azkaban soon. And Snape will be ousted for the traitor I'm sure he is…_

_And I will take their place on the Dark Lord's right hand._

But first, he had to prove his information infallible. He could make no mistake, after all. The Dark Lord was not forgiving, and it wouldn't do to bring him the wrong heirs. And what better way to find out than from the very source itself?

It only took a moment for him to dismantle the wards around the old, worn hat sitting on a stool in the corner; and even less than that to put it over his Halloween Ball mask.

And that is how he heard the Sorting Hat's next riddle.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I know, I'm horrible for not updating for a month! I had a really hard time with this chapter, perhaps you can guess why. I bow down and grovel, asking for forgiveness or understanding. Hopefully this chapter somewhat makes it up? **


	39. When Death Descended

**WHEN DEATH DESCENDED**

Harry watched in shock as Ginny left the room. Meghan Black gave him a withering glare and chased after her, pulling Luna along, and Michael Corner glared at him in distaste. In fact, quite a few people were staring at him—Fred and George among them.

There was another burst of smoke, and they became themselves, albeit with blue hair. Nobody laughed.

"You _are_ tactless," said Fred.

"_And_ a git to boot," said George.

"And not that we need to tell you this—"

"—since you have obvious gallantry when it comes to fair maidens like our sister—"

"—but you might want to tell your Oh-So-Shrill-One that she's made to scream that horrible phrase when her emotions rise a certain level," said Fred, nodding at Cho Chang. She had moved away from the door, trying to find Harry, thinking him to be a green-faced clown in the corner. When she found out it was Ernie Macmillan instead, she screamed at imaginary guards to arrest him.

Harry sighed irritably. He didn't really want to deal with Cho right then. Her previous ministrations that she still was in love with him had sent him reeling.

"I couldn't lie to myself or to you by not telling you," she had whispered to him with tears in her eyes. "I know you're with Ginny...but all night she's been dancing with other boys, so I thought there might be a rift growing between you two. Please, Harry...is there any hope you're still in love with me?"

He'd told her, of course, that he didn't feel that way about her at all anymore, and her pretty face spilled over with tears. But he was telling Ginny the truth when he told her Cho didn't throw herself at him. When he told her no, that he didn't feel anything for her, she left. He stayed there for a moment, wondering if he'd said the right things, but he didn't feel anything for Cho. There wasn't much he could do about that anymore.

He quickly ducked behind King Arthur. Cho passed by him without a second glance, rather distressed, screaming at Happy, Bashful, and Doc to go off themselves. Suddenly, he wasn't finding the party very fun any more. He shouldered past the twins—not very hard to do, as his huge monstrous body proved the best shield—and ducked outside.

"Harry! _Harry!" _Ron shouted, following him. "Wait! I have to show you something! Hermione's not—_Harry—"_

"_What, _Ron?" Harry snapped, reeling on his best friend. "Don't want to miss a chance to come and tell me I've royally fucked up with your sister too? Want to tell me how much of an arse I am, do you? I don't need that from you too!"

"No, Harry, I know Ginny flew off the handle, she always does that. No, it's about Hermione—"

"I TOLD YOU NOTHING IS GOING ON BETWEEN US!" Harry finally roared. "Why doesn't anyone believe me?"

A bang—Harry's world disappeared in smoke, and he thought for one horrible second that Voldemort had somehow got him—but when he could finally see again, he had shrunk a foot or two, his skin was his regular color, and he was Harry once more. The scars on his head were fading (other than usual one, of course), the screws had already popped out, and he was back in his regular clothes... although he swore his face was still a sickly shade of green...or he just really needed to vomit...

Ron's concerned, earnest face was peering down at him when the smoke cleared.

"Look, Harry...I know that you and Hermione aren't seeing each other, mate. This isn't about that. I thought Ginny was being unfair, saying that stuff about you, all right? I don't really care about any of it. But there are _more important things _right now!"

And then Ron told him what he talked about with Hermione, and shoved the note under Harry's nose.

_**Mudblood—**_

_**You will leave your room. You will feel no emotion. You will take down the Auror guards you see, the teachers you find, and the prefects out on patrol. You will not let them see you attack them. You will not tell anyone what you are doing, what your orders are, or alert them in any way. You will not let anyone find out about your curse. You will hide their bodies away so they won't be found. You will then go to the library to the 13th Carrell. You will open the Ravenclaw portrait with the infinity spell and say "Apertum". You will walk inside and collect the Ravenclaw Diadem, taking great care not to touch it. And then you will receive me.**_

Harry's fingers started shaking as he read. Too many questions. Too many things going wrong.

"Did she...she didn't...did she _kill _them? What did she do to them?" Harry asked, horror choking him. "Did she _meet_ with him? _What did she do?"_

But when he looked up at Ron, he realized the redhead didn't have any better clue than he did.

"I don't know, Harry. But we _have_ to find her!"

Face white, Harry nodded, and they both took off at a run.

* * *

Not for the first time, Ginny was livid.

She was standing before the Shrieking Shack—instead of crossing the fence and into the yard to see if Moony was home, she forgot it could be done. It was habit to just stand at the gate and look over at the building.

Meghan and Luna were perched on the fence, listening to her. Ginny couldn't help but admire the pretty sight Luna made; her beautiful gypsy dress flowing all around her, so wistful in the moonlight with her almost-white hair and startling eyes. Her naturally beautiful face simply glowing with sympathy against the backdrop of the Shrieking Shack. She really was one of a kind. Even Meghan, a little black dog no more, looked quite the sight, with the setting sun making her skin a beautiful caramel. Ginny was trying really hard not to be jealous. They were listening to her furious ranting, after all.

_And here I am in this horrible dress and these horrible shoes and I bet my hair is a fright and I've got mud on the hem of my dress and I'm so _cold!

It was all well and all for Luna and Meghan. They at least had long sleeves.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and Ginny whirled on Hermione, who had just reached them.

"What took you so long? I thought you were right behind us?" Ginny snapped before she could stop herself.

"You missed her cursing out Harry," said Meghan, looking very put-upon. "She even middle-named him."

"Serves him right," Ginny muttered. "I middle-name arses who deserve it. Do it to my brothers often enough."

"I thought she sounded more like his wife than his sister," Meghan whispered to Luna.

"I heard that!"

They were facing away from the Shack now and could see Hogsmeade spread out before them. Although the Shack was only a quarter of a mile away from the village, it was on higher ground. The house itself sat atop a small hill, its grounds sloping downwards toward the village.

All in all, it was a beautiful sight—bonfires with people dancing and merry-making, far-away singing and laughing could be heard, small lights darted to and fro as witches and wizards ran up and down the streets, candles in hand.

Ginny, however, took no notice. It had been just ten minutes since she left the party, and she couldn't stop thinking about Harry. She did feel sorry for Meghan and Luna for having to listen, but couldn't think much about anything else other than Harry's enormously fat head.

"You're not being very fair, Gin. He thought he was protecting you when he hit Michael like that," said Luna consolingly.

"He's such a _pig! _He's reckless and hypocritical and—"

"Look, I know what he did to Michael was wrong, but can't you give him a break—"

"No! He can feed himself to an erumpent for all I care!" she said furiously, wiping tears from her eyes. "And why are you acting like such a robot, Hermione? Merlin abroad! Just show me some emotion already! Or are you sticking up for him? Oh, this _damnable _dress!"

She had been trying for the last minute to sit down on the fence railing next to Luna, but her idiotic ballgown was preventing her. A silvery, ghostly form appeared in the corner of her eye, but as soon as she turned to look, the apparition was gone. A Patronus, maybe…?

"Why is it so cold?" Meghan muttered, rubbing her arms and distracting Ginny from the wispy form in the woods. Ginny could see Meghan's breaths in the frigid air as the tiny darker girl shivered.

Ginny huffed, more from the cold than frustration. "Maybe if Harry can stop being so stupid, I might consider liking him again!"

"Oh, quit lying to yourself, Ginny, you never _stopped _liking him."

"Yes, I did," said Ginny, stubborn to a fault. "I stopped liking him as soon as I saw him talking to that...that...cow."

"Ginny—"

"And you!" Ginny cried, whirling around at Hermione. "Speaking of cows, you've been playing with my brother's heart all night! Just tell everyone what you feel about him already! You're driving me crazy!"

To her astonishment, tears were streaming down Hermione's face.

"I am hopelessly in love with Ron," Hermione gasped out. "I've loved him since I first met him, and I haven't stopped loving him since. Even though our relationship has been rocky, I feel like I can't breathe when we're fighting. But I can't get together with him, I-I-I just can't—"

"So what, you're just going to write my brother off like some bloody cast-off?" said Ginny angrily. "You certainly have been doing it all term."

"_You're_ the one who told me to go out with Viktor in the first place—!"

"Yes, but not for real—"

"Well, if you could make up your mind!" Hermione cried. Her breath came out in gasps, coloring the air. "Just stop telling me what I should do!"

"Hermione—" said Luna.

"—I liked Viktor, but I love Ron more—only he can't pull his head out of his arse long enough for me to tell him that! I'm tired of waiting around for him to notice me! He's yelled at me for years, he says incredibly rude things—"

"Hermione!"

"—he ignores me and accuses me of snogging Harry and shagging Krum in the same breath, he berates me and belittles me and be_witches_ me, and I don't understand _why_—"

"Hermione, stop!" Luna finally shouted.

Hermione and Ginny looked at Luna, surprised. They had never heard the Ravenclaw raise her voice above timidity before. But instead of apologizing, Luna just looked at them.

"If the two of you hadn't been acting like scorned Veelas, you might have been able to tell that not everything is about you! Haven't you noticed how quiet it's become? I can't hear any of those party-goers at all. Judging by how much you're shivering, I'm guessing you've noted the temperature drop too," Luna explained. "And did anyone else see the crup running to us and vanishing, or was it just me? I know the Shrieking Shack is haunted with nargles but I'm starting to get goose-pimplies."

"I thought I saw something too...it looked like a Patronus. Do you think the boys are trying to tell us something?" Ginny asked. "Maybe we should be heading back…"

"Where's Professor Snape?" Meghan muttered. "It's past nine, he was supposed to get us an hour ago—"

"He probably just missed us, is all. I bet everyone went back already—"

"We've only been here ten minutes. Something is wrong...I can feel it..." Luna said, head cocked.

Ginny looked at her. There was obvious fear in Luna's eyes, and it wasn't until now that she noticed her skin was crawling all around her—and it had nothing to do with the cold weather.

"'_Something's going to happen,'"_ Ginny repeated softly. Luna's words came back to her from just an hour before. "'_Something's going to happen'_...and then you said..."

She stopped, remembering that look Luna had in her eyes when she said those three simple words—

"'_He's coming tonight.'"_

"What?" whispered Meghan, taken aback.

"Luna, you said before that something was going to happen!" said Ginny, suddenly urgent. She turned to Hermione. "She said '_He's coming tonight'! _Hermione, you don't think she meant—"

A chilling scream split across the night.

* * *

Ron was afraid. Fear for Hermione, for what she did to everyone in the castle, to what happened when she met with the damnable Death Eater behind all this…

He'd never been more scared out of his mind.

Only half paying attention to all the Patronuses Harry was sending out, alerting anyone and everyone that they could think of at Hogwarts, Ron tried several spells to improve his eyesight to find where Hermione and Ginny had gone.

"Have you guys seen Meghan? I lost her at the party," said Neville, jogging up to them.

"Er...yeah...she went with Hermione, Ginny, and Luna. We're actually looking for them now," he said. "Something might be wrong back at the castle. Harry just has to double-check first."

"Oh, did you send a Patronus to the girls too? They're pretty useful in finding people...at least, if you can keep up with them. They're wicked fast..." Neville told Harry when he caught up with Ron and Neville.

"Not all the time," Ron corrected. "When Hermione was missing, everyone was trying that spell to find her, and they all kept coming back aimlessly. She was under a protection ward that they couldn't penetrate, and I think it Confunded them…"

"One step ahead of you," Harry said. "It went that way."

They jogged off after the direction he pointed, but the stag Patronus was too damn fast. They lost it after several streets, and Ron ran through a full list in his head of the wizarding shops in this area that Ginny might have tried to see were still open.

"Thanks for coming with, Nev," said Harry.

"It's the least I could do. I'm really worried about Meghan."

The sun had just set—an eerie orange glow settled over the village and the sky was markedly darker. Although it wasn't raining or hailing, it was rather dark and windy. Ron kept hearing the breeze whistle through the streets and old cottages, and it gave him a chill.

They passed Padma Patil on the street. Or...at least...it looked like Padma. In costume, she could have been anyone. She looked rather unrecognizable in a flowing black dress, a raven on her shoulder, and holding an orbed staff. She reminded Ron very much of an evil sorceress.

"Remind me again why I said those things to Gin," muttered Harry.

The cool night wind whipped around them. Ron was rather warm in his armor; he discarded the helmet, so just had the chainmail and armor on over his clothes. Neville wasn't in his costume anymore like Harry, so it was just Ron looking ridiculous at the moment.

"Because you're an insufferable wanker who can't say anything right and is determined to make girls miserable?" grunted Ron. "Oh no, wait...that's me…"

"I think you're right," Harry said sullenly. "I didn't really mean those things—I mean, I guess she really wasn't acting like a tart, and I really did deck Corner pretty hard—"

"Damn right you did. Looked pretty sweet, actually. Wish I'd had a chance to punch Krum like that when he was going out with Hermione. She looked...well, she looked rather nice in her costume—" Ron trailed off, grinning into the sunset as he thought about the vision Hermione made in that rather revealing dress.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "'Rather nice'?" he repeated. "You couldn't stop staring at her! Since when do male best friends look at female best friends like _that_?"

Ron spluttered. "I didn't—I'm not—"

Neville chuckled at the pair of them.

In the distance, they heard Cho screaming "Off with their heads!" again, making Harry stiffen beside him.

"You just keep telling yourself that," Harry muttered.

They slowed down to a walk and continued in silence for a while. Ron sent off another Patronus, and they began their search anew until the stag was too fast for them again.

"There aren't many people out," Neville noticed. "It's Halloween night, the entire village is usually out celebrating this time of year. Same goes for Hogwarts students too. So why didn't more come tonight?"

"It's only for fifth-years and up, remember?" said Harry. "Third-years and fourth-years weren't allowed. That's why there weren't many."

"No, there's something else..." Ron said, then furrowed his brow. "You know...I don't think any Slytherins came down to Hogsmeade today."

Neville thought about it. "Yeah...I wonder why...they seemed right smug at lunch today. Besides Meghan, anyway. She was that little black Scottish terrier bouncing about. You don't think something's wrong, do you?"

"With Meghan? Well, she is a bit like one of Professor Sprout's Violent Violets, but—"

"No, with the Slytherins! Maybe they're...I dunno...all trying to sneak into Gryffindor Tower right now or something," said Neville.

"McGonagall would kill them if she's still…you know..." Ron trailed off, and they all swallowed nervously. Then, more hopefully, "Yeah, perhaps that's why..."

"You haven't seen any of Hermione's Auror guards, have you? Harper, Fallows, Junke, Williamson…"

Ron lowered his brow. "Now that you mention it, no...not since the Halloween Ball when I dropped Hermione off at Gryffindor tower. You don't think…"

They looked at each other.

The town was decorated in all of its Halloween goodness—pumpkins and hanging lights were at every other shop and house, and laughter, music, and talking could be heard in the air. Even if most of the war-fearing Hogsmeade people were safely inside, parties could still be heard all over. There was a bonfire a few streets down, and dozens of Hogwarts students held candles as they walked around the town—although it was a Muggle tradition, Ron knew of plenty of superstitious wizarding families who did this.

He, Harry, and Neville passed a group of fifth-year boys who were setting up pranks on some of the closed shops in honor of their night of mischief. Ron looked at them, remembering when he used to be that short and stupid.

And then he heard a familiar, unwelcome voice.

"Oh, what now?" Ron groaned.

It was Draco Malfoy off a dark alley to their right. And just like when they had found him a few days before, he wasn't alone; they could see him standing with several girls.

"Go back to the castle, or I'm going to take points!" Malfoy hissed to them.

They gasped and hurried to comply. A few more students passed by and Malfoy seized their robes. "Fun's over! Get over to Honeydukes' cellar! Now!" He sent a shooting spell at the group of pranking fifth-years. "I'm a prefect! Now get off your arses and get back to the school!"

"Will you stop bossing everyone around, Malfoy!" said Ron strongly, as he, Harry, and Neville approached Malfoy. The sword at Ron's side gave him bravado. "Snape isn't out yet. He's the one who's supposed to round us all up."

"Mind your own business, Weaselby," snapped Malfoy.

Then they noticed how pale the Slytherin was—there were beads of sweat on his forehead and his wand arm was shaking.

"I don't care if you're a prefect, Malfoy, you can't just—" Neville said bravely.

"I'll do whatever I bloody well please!" Malfoy suddenly shouted.

There was a loud bang behind him, and Malfoy whipped around, wand out. The wind picked up and blew Ron's hair into his eyes, but not before he could see the frightened look on the Slytherin's face.

"Since when are you afraid of fireworks, _Malfoy_?" Harry sneered.

Malfoy's arm relaxed when he realized that was all it was. His face twisted into a scowl at Harry's words, but his eyes remained scared. This did not escape Ron's notice—for some reason he felt his muscles twitch, and an uneasy feeling grew in the air around them.

Malfoy was acting rather strange, and whatever the reason, it could not be good...

Harry's eyes were narrowed at Malfoy. "Why do you keep telling everyone to go back to the castle?"

At first, Ron thought Malfoy would just sneer and tell Harry to go off himself. But there was something in the way Harry was standing, how he had drawn himself up, how his eyes pierced through Malfoy, how his voice commanded obedience—

"Wouldn't _you _like to know?" Malfoy sneered.

Harry suddenly grabbed Malfoy's collar and shoved him up against the building. Ron's jaw dropped. The pale Slytherin visibly flinched.

"What are you afraid of?" Harry shouted. "Why do you not want anyone in Hogsmeade? What are you hiding? _Answer me!" _

Draco Malfoy's eyes widened in pure terror. But he wasn't looking at Harry. He wasn't even looking at Ron. Raising a shaking arm, he pointed above their heads. A frozen wind sliced the air around them, chilling them to their bones.

And then a scream in the distance. One long, solo scream, until it was joined by two more, and then ten, and then dozens.

The color drained out of Ron's face as he turned and looked above them, to where Malfoy was pointing.

A hundred dementors were descending on Hogsmeade.

* * *

Hermione couldn't shake the sight of the black mass silhouetted against the moon. It had just risen over the mountains with dark clouds on either side of it. The dementors were gliding about a mile away above their heads, and steadily descending.

Hermione was chalk-white as she whispered, "Th-the villagers—the _students_—!"

And if nobody at the castle could help them...

The horrible crimes that she had committed at the castle grew to be too much for her. She was commanded not to feel anything for it at the time, but she definitely felt it now. Waves and waves of helplessness and frustration at everything that she'd been forced to do engulfed her.

But now was, emphatically, _not the time._

She blinked her emotions down and jumped into action.

"Come on," she said, and grabbed Luna's hand, pulling her off the fence. Ginny and Meghan were still staring at the sky in horror. "Girls, come _on!"_

They took off down the road that would take them into Hogsmeade. It didn't even occur to them to duck into the Shrieking Shack and take its tunnel back to the Whomping Willow, where they would be safe inside Hogwarts' wards. They ran down the road as well as they could in their fanciful dresses. Ginny was faster—she was a natural-born Chaser, and she didn't have Luna's or Hermione's confounded heels—

Luna cried in pain and fell to the ground.

"_Luna_—!"

"And why are four pretty young witches running around on this dreadfully chilly night?" said a voice in the shadows just in front of them. "Alone, no less? And barely covered! You must be freezing...you know, you really should have escorts, my dears. Why, there could be Dark creatures about…"

Hermione's blood ran cold as they came face to face with Lucius Malfoy.

Her wand was out before she even knew she had acquired it. Beside her, Ginny and Meghan had done the same. Luna ducked under the Shield Charm Hermione put up around her as spells flew above her head.

"_Impedimenta!"_

"_Stupefy!" _

"_Incarcerous!"_

Lucius Malfoy moved towards them, simply dodging each spell with a flick of his wand. When Hermione and Ginny took a breath, he Disarmed them, and their wands flew off into the darkness.

"Forgive me, my dears," he said, the polite, charming voice still distinct. "But the Dark Lord really would love to add Miss Granger here to his collection...and we mustn't keep him waiting, must we, dear? Come with me...and I won't touch a hair on their pretty heads…"

Hermione took a step forward—

"Don't you dare go to him, Hermione!" Ginny snarled, and Hermione's body relaxed again. "You can take her from us when we're cold and dead."

"As you wish," Malfoy said.

With a wave of his wand, magical ropes flew out, binding Ginny and knocking her savagely to the ground.

"No!" Meghan shrieked, and Malfoy's spell made the Slytherin girl blast backwards. She landed by a pile of rocks and was still.

"_Meghan!"_ Hermione gasped. She started to go to her, but Lucius Malfoy's sick, commanding voice sneered.

"Stop it right there, Mudblood, if you know what's good for you. I could make you do things that will make your blood writhe."

She stopped, heart beating furiously fast as she saw the pleasing look in his wicked eyes, and she knew with every fiber in her being why he was there.

He knew about her curse.

_No...no, no, no, _no…

Things had just gone from bad to worse.

Lucius Malfoy turned to Luna. Hermione's heart sped up when she saw his eyes on the Ravenclaw's.

"But, my darling," he said. "It seems you are not well. Perhaps I may be of assistance?"

Luna's eyes widened. Before she could move, he knelt before her and seized her ankle. She bit her lip from crying out in pain.

"There, there, now..." said Malfoy soothingly. She struggled to get away from him, but he held fast. "If you persist, my dear, I'm afraid I will only have to make you hurt more. We wouldn't want that now, would we? Nothing should ever harm such a darling little thing such as yourself."

He raised his wand to Luna's foot. Ginny squirmed, but the ropes only bound her tighter, closing off the circulation around her neck even more.

"_Don't—"_ Hermione cried.

Anger reigned, and Hermione tried to stop the Death Eater, but his arm struck out like a snake and grabbed her wrist. His eyes flashed at her dangerously before he turned his attention back to Luna. But the words that came out of his mouth was not a curse at all, but a healing spell they all knew.

"There...much better, do you not agree, Miss...Lovegood? Let me help you to your feet, my pet—"

On the ground, Luna saw Ginny couldn't breathe—the ropes tightened around her neck—

But Lucius Malfoy underestimated Luna Lovegood. As he helped her up, Luna's hand flashed inside of the folds of her dress and pulled out her wand. A non-verbal Disarming Charm later, she held her own to Malfoy's defenseless throat. "R-Release them!"

"Now, now, after I helped you? Not very considerate, is it? And to a wizard much more powerful and of a better blood than you? I'm really quite disappointed in how your father raised you," Lucius said, his voice getting deeper, his eyes getting darker. "Perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement—"

Ginny's face was turning purple—the ropes were killing her—Hermione tried in vain to get to Ginny, but Lucius still held her wrist fast.

"_Let them go now!_" shrieked Luna. White sparks flew out the end of her wand, scorching him.

The next second, Ginny was freed as her ropes disappeared. She lay on the ground, coughing. Luna looked over at Ginny.

But one second was all it took—Malfoy seized Luna's wand and yanked Hermione closer till her back was to his chest, arms forcing her against him, and then he angled Luna's wand.

It was now aimed at Hermione's throat.

* * *

An icy hand grabbed hold of Harry's heart.

Just above their heads covering the sky was a mass of dementors. They were coming in from the east, silhouetted against the moon and dark clouds—and they were gliding straight towards Hogsmeade.

Screaming was erupting all around them, people were running in the streets, everything was chaos, everyone was in shambles. He suddenly found it hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to feel, hard to think.

At that last word, everything came rushing back to Harry. His Patronus lessons with Moony, learning with Dumbledore, his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, teaching the D.A...and then he knew what to do.

"Ron—we have to get everyone to safety—"

Ron and Neville didn't seem to hear what he said. They were both looking at the dementors, terror in their eyes.

"_Guys!"_ Harry shouted.

With great strength, Neville tore his eyes away from the daunting sight and looked at Harry.

"I need you to run to Fred and George and have them alert the Order!" Harry said. "Tell everyone at the party to get to the Honeydukes cellar! _Now!"_

Neville took off, stumbling.

"I'm staying with you, Harry," said Ron stubbornly.

"No, you're not. I need you for something else."

"I said I'm staying with—"

"_No!"_ Harry shouted. "Ron, Hermione and Ginny are out there somewhere! Voldemort _wants _Hermione! And he will do whatever he damn well please to Ginny too. I need you to go find them! I need you to go protect them and get them to safety! Now!"

If Ron's face wasn't ashen enough before, it sure was now. His freckles were a sharp contrast to the rest of his skin as he realized what Harry was saying. He nodded and, without another word from Harry, took off into the darkness.

Harry turned to Draco Malfoy, a furious look in his eyes. Like Ron, Malfoy couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of the night sky illuminated with a hundred dementors. He was standing, transfixed, the light of the moon reflected in his silvery grey eyes, a look of horror on his face.

"You!" Harry snarled. "You _knew _they were coming!"

This broke Malfoy's spell. He tore his eyes from the sky and saw Harry standing there, hand clenched tight over his wand, arms shaking. For that one moment it was just Harry and Malfoy alone in the alley, glaring at each other.

And then Draco Malfoy turned and bolted.

"_Oh no, you don't!"_ Harry roared.

He suddenly flashed back to their first year when they were both with Hagrid serving detention in the Forbidden Forest and came across Voldemort. But Harry was not going to face it alone this time.

With a flash of red light, Draco Malfoy fell to the ground. Harry strode over to him, turning Draco flat on his back with his wand. When he reached him, Harry couldn't think any more—he simply saw red. Grabbing Draco's robes, he heaved him to his feet and slammed him into the wall. "It's YOUR fault they're here! It's _your—damn—family's_ fault! You KNEW they were coming!"

Draco Malfoy glared at Harry in pure hatred, struggling against his hold.

"So what?" he hissed. "The entire Slytherin house knew! Why do you think none of them were here tonight? The Dark Lord—"

"_Don't blame it on him! _You're the one who chose not to tell Dumbledore," said Harry furiously. He barely thought the spell before Draco's wand shot towards him from the ground. Harry caught it deftly in his hand and pocketed it.

Draco Malfoy lunged—Harry trained his own wand on him as he made to grab for it.

"Give it _back_, you gormless half-blood!" the blond boy snarled.

Harry growled. "The day I hand over your bloody weapon is the day you kneel at my feet and kiss my half-blooded boots."

"I'll make sure you go to Azkaban for this," Draco hissed. "Wand-withholding is illegal!"

"Then I'll be sure to reserve you a cell right next to me," said Harry, gritting his teeth. "And just to make sure we can handle living next to each other, you're going to stay by my side all night! If I see you leave my side for a _second, _I swear I will rip your bloody heart out with my bare hands. There's no way in hell I'm going to let you run back to your ferret of a father."

Draco scoffed. "You think I'm going to tail you like a lost crup all night? Are you bloody insa—"

A spell shot from Harry's wand, and Draco Malfoy found his wrist bound by a thin rope that led to Harry's own arm, binding them both with the same six-foot leash.

"A chain spell?" spluttered Draco. "Are you effing _kidding _me?"

"You wanted to be a crup," retorted Harry. "So you've got the leash to go with it. Now move!"

Draco glared at him and didn't budge. Harry, however, wasn't cowed. He was a Seeker, he was smaller than Draco, and he had more experience when it came to handling weight—as he had done many times in the past to escape from his cousin Dudley. With one swift move, he unbalanced Draco, yanked hard on the chain to put Draco's weight in his favor, and started towards the street. Draco was forced to follow, cursing and muttering at Harry behind his back.

But it was necessary. Harry needed him. There was a large part of him that knew it couldn't just be dementors. There had to be someone controlling them. And they weren't just there by accident, either. It was Voldemort's plan and his dog Lucius Malfoy had to be around here somewhere.

And until he could find him, Harry was not going to let Draco Malfoy out of his sight.

"You better pray that Voldemort finishes your family off for this!" he snarled. "Because if he doesn't, I will!"

Harry pulled the stubborn arse along. At first, Malfoy was reluctant but once he saw they were heading towards safety, Malfoy began to run alongside him in earnest.

"Look—" Harry yelled as they ran, "—we only have a few seconds before they touch ground—we've wasted enough time arguing! We need to tell everyone we find to get to Honeydukes cellar—it's the safest way to the castle—"

"_What?"_ Draco Malfoy shouted. "We just run through the streets screaming while dementors are loose? _Are you mad?" _

"Do you HAVE a better plan?"

"YES! I propose we get the BLOODY HELL out of here and forget everyone else!"

They reached Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Dozens of students had flooded out into the street, gazing dumbstruck at the sky.

"What are you standing around for?" Harry roared. "Get back to Honeydukes! Take the cellar back to Hogwarts! NOW!"

They blindly took off.

"Harry! _Harry_!" Fred ran up to him as they left. "George went to get Dumbledore! I sent a messenger to the Hogwarts Aurors—they should be here soon—"

_If Hermione hasn't taken care of them first…_

"All right—well done—" said Harry, trying to think straight. The mess that Hermione left inside of Hogwarts was going to have to wait.

Fred, Angelina, and Neville were gathered around him. Draco Malfoy stood as far from them as he could get, scowling. Noticing the chain between the two, Neville raised his eyebrows at Harry.

Harry noticed with a mixture of surprise, pride, and fear that quite a few members of the D.A. had stayed behind and not run off to Honeydukes. He could see Dean Thomas, Amanda Smythe, the Patil twins, Seamus Finnigan, and two dozen more looking at him expectantly, eyes wide with fear and determination.

"We're with you, Harry!"

"We can do the Patronus—"

"What do you need?"

"I need you to tell as many people as you can to go to Honeydukes! Try to fend the dementors off as best you can—_but you have to go alone_! Dementors feed off the larger groups first. When you help people to get to the tunnel, make sure you do it in small groups, and make sure they go to Honeydukes. They'll be sitting targets if they try to take the road to the castle. And keep your wand lit at ALL times! Dementors are not as strong in the light. Do you understand?" said Harry.

White faces nodded.

"All right, you lot—go cover the west end. Fred, take these ones to all the streets surrounding High Street—and make sure you cover the area around Honeydukes, it's going to have loads of dementors! Make sure several are guarding the tunnel. You six, head on over to the east side, and the rest of you, take the south. Good luck, all of you. _And be careful!" _said Harry, watching them run off. He turned to Neville and Malfoy, who'd been standing behind him.

"Neville, I need you to go to Honeydukes and make sure everyone gets into the cellar all right. If a dementor comes, use your Patronus! _They must not enter the tunnel! _I know you can do this, all right? I need you to make sure everyone gets through safely!" he said.

Neville nodded, blinking profusely. "I-I won't let you down, Harry!"

"I know you won't," said Harry. He turned to Draco Malfoy after Neville left. "And you are staying with me. Your father is out here somewhere—he's the only one who can call off the dementors—and you're going to lead me to him!"

The umbrage in Malfoy's eyes was unmaskable. Harry pulled him along anyway.

There was darkness before them as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy turned down an alley on the western side of Hogsmeade. They could hear screams and half-hearted attempts at the Patronus Charm in the distance, but inside this alley, things were remarkably quiet.

"_Lumos!"_

Harry saw the gnarled and blackened sign that had previously stood on the signpost. Half of it was burnt, and one end had broke off. All in all, it now read something else entirely.

"'Blood Traitors All'..." Draco read over Harry's shoulder. He grew faintly white, then sneered. "Speak for yourself..."

_Was it only a few days ago we were here with the others?_ Harry wondered. _How could so many things go wrong since then?_

He was immediately brought back to the task at hand. He strode through the darkened street, wand lit and trained in front of him.

"How in Merlin's name did your father escape from prison anyway?" said Harry.

"An effortless task when only Aurors are guarding it," Draco Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "It took them days to even find out he was missing. Shows how competent they are."

They got to the end of the alley, and Harry held his wand aloft to the left and right, unsure of which way to go.

"Where _are_ you taking us?" said Draco.

"To the outskirts of town. I reckon your father would be on the sidelines, watching all the 'fun'. That _is _what Malfoys do, isn't it? It's what you were going to do in our fake duel in first year. But you're his son—where d'you reckon your ferret father would be?"

"You think I'd tell you?" sneered Draco. "I don't care what kind of chain is around me, I'm not going to sell my father out to the Golden Boy!"

Harry ignored him. He had suddenly noticed how he could see quite a bit of the south side, but none of the north side; Hogsmeade was built on a slight tilt of uneven ground. And they had just come from the north...

"If he were on the south or the east, it wouldn't provide much of a view..." said Harry, thinking. "And he wouldn't be in the village...he wouldn't dare risk getting caught again..."

He looked over to the northwest, where the Shrieking Shack was perched on a small hill—with Hogwarts Castle looming in the distance behind it on a much bigger one.

And Harry knew where Lucius Malfoy was.

* * *

Ron couldn't think. Two names reverberated around in his mind as he ran.

_Hermione. Ginny. Hermione. Ginny. Hermione. Ginny._

It was rather difficult to run—his costume was heavy; but at least he wasn't spouting love anymore.

He came to the owl-post office where several people were huddled inside. He ran past it before he remembered his other mission. _Warn the others. _Turning around, he ran back inside the building. As soon as he stepped in the door, a spell came shooting towards him. He thrust his shield forward and was surprised when the spell actually bounced off it.

Dozens of owls were hanging in cages along the walls and began to hoot like crazy when he came in. An old wizard, three witches, and a screaming baby were hiding under the desks. One of the witches was holding her wand at him, looking aghast. He imagined he must have looked a fright: in full chain-mail and armor with a shield in one hand, a wand in the other, and a sword hanging from his belt.

"What's the matter with you?" he said. "What're you shooting at me for? If you thought I was a dementor, you can forget hexes—they're useless against them! Now, come on—you have to go—"

They didn't move. He sighed. They were wasting precious time.

"Look, if you stay here, they're going to be on you in a minute! Come _on_—you have to get into Honeydukes! There's a cellar with a tunnel in it that will take you to Hogwarts—you'll be safe!" he said.

The women crawled out, but the old man shook his head dumbly. Ron pulled on his arm. "Come on! Do you WANT to die?"

"Father! Father, please! Come with us!" cried the youngest witch. She helped him out from under the desk and they all looked at Ron expectantly.

"Do any of you know how to cast a Patronus?" he said.

The one with the baby hesitantly nodded.

"All right. Run as fast as you can to Honeydukes—I can't come with you. If any dementors stand in your way, just shout it at them—but you have to be happy, right? Just—just think of a good memory—like your baby being born—my mum said that always worked for her—" he stammered. "Er...look, I know it's scary, but if I can do it, then you can as well, all right? Now go!"

He followed them out the door and watched as they took off down the street. As soon as they were out of sight, there was a flash of smoke and his costume disappeared.

He looked down in dismay. Ruddy regular clothes once more. Damn.

All of a sudden, Ron felt overwhelmed by the situation. He didn't know if it was because the dementors were now roaming the streets of Hogsmeade, or if his costume had given him courage as well as shield and sword.

But the sword...for some reason, the sword stayed in his hand...ruddy Muggle Maskmallow probably had a glitch in it. The rubied hilt glimmering in the moonlight, and just holding it made him feel stronger and more powerful.

Spirits lifted from this, Ron took off into the night. He ran along High Street, frantically searching for anywhere his sister and best friend could have gone. There was screaming erupting all around him, but he couldn't afford to help anyone else. It would take too long, he'd never be able to find the girls.

_Think, Ron… Where could they have gone? I didn't see them on High Street, but maybe they're somewhere here anyway. Or maybe they went straight to the castle after the party, which means they could be at Honeydukes already, or_—

_Or maybe they took the road to Hogwarts._

Fear gripped at him.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _said Ron, expecting his crup to come out of his wand so he could tell it to find Hermione and Ginny. But...nothing came out except a wisp.

_Oh, come on…_

He tried again, but not even a wisp appeared. Again...and again...and his fear surmounted.

_I'm bloody too afraid to do the damn spell aren't I? Shite. Shite, shite, shite..._

Breathing hard, his grips on his wand and the sword tightened, as Ron thought about what he could do.

Finding the girls via bloody messenger was out. He had to find them by himself. But where were they likely to go? If they had taken the road to the castle, the dementors would be on them in no time. And Harry probably didn't have anyone checking the road; Ron reckoned Harry simply forgot. Which meant that Ron would have to check the road to make sure Hermione and Ginny weren't on it. But then...

But then, if they had gone somewhere else, his time checking the road would be wasted. It was out of the way, and about a half-mile until the road reached Hogwarts' wards—

Indecision tore through him. Either way, it could spell the difference between finding the girls alive, souls wholly intact, or...

He started towards the road to Hogwarts, if only to keep his mind from finishing that sentence.

The road that led out of the northeast side of Hogsmeade curved considerably. There were woods on either side of the road, creating shadows that jumped out at him. It was dark all around—not like it was night—but like it was just darkness...darkness and...and why was it so foggy...couldn't be more rain, could it...

"_Lum...os," _he said, suddenly tired.

Was it just him, or was he slowing down? It was hard to tell...he couldn't see but three feet in front of him...and the air...it was so cold...so dark...

"_Lu...lum...os..." _he whispered, feeling rather faint. No light came out.

He slowed down, exhausted. The sword still in his hand felt even heavier. _No...I have to keep going...I have to...but there's so many of them...we're never going to get out of here alive. We're going to die. Harry's going to die. Ginny's going to die. Hermione's going to die...she's going to die and never really know how I feel and I'll never be able to kiss her..._

He tried to keep moving—to put one foot in front of the other—but he couldn't. It was too hard, there was no point. All he felt was an overwhelming sense of depression.

Sinking to his knees, Ron didn't see the dementors advancing behind him.

* * *

**A/N:**

**And so, the doom and gloom continues. We are nearing the end! Ten more chapters to go!**

**As always, don't forget to review, lovely readers. Tell me what you like, what you don't, who you like, and who you don't. Wondering when everyone else is going to find out about what Hermione's been up to and how that affects the climax? Never fear, the next chapter will go a bit more into that. Wondering when Hinny are finally going to kiss and make up? Also in the next chapter (if they can find each other, that is). Wondering when Romione are going to FINALLY be together? Well, we just need them to get off their asses and have enough bravado and clarity to get over themselves. Maybe facing dementors will do the trick...**


	40. Knight the Pawn

**KNIGHT THE PAWN**

When Minerva awoke, the first thing she noticed was that she was on the floor. At her age (after all, she was not getting any younger) there were certain places one mustn't be. The floor was one of them. It took her a minute to become fully righted, and as soon as she had done that, she tried to piece together what had happened.

She had been attacked. She knew that, of course. The question was who and why. Of course, when she asked the portrait of Madame Mordrina Hubbard (Order of Merlin, Second Class) and was told the offender was none other than Minerva's most prized student, the shock waves quickly had to be abated. Miss Granger was, after all, under a most devastating curse and was most likely forced to do it. The obscurus of it all must then be who would have commanded Miss Granger to do it? Certainly not her friends, which meant that even with all their precautions in confining the girl to her tower and keeping her guarded all night, someone was still able to worm their way in.

_But her guardian informed me that she was escorted up to her tower by Mr. Weasley and appeared normal, and he hasn't alerted me that she has tried to leave…_

"Madame Mordrina, go visit your other portrait in the girls' dorm, if you would. Let me know at once if Miss Granger there. Sir Cadogan, please check on the Fat Lady and—"

But her second request was not needed, for the Fat Lady herself appeared in Sir Cadogan's painting, out of breath. "Minerva! She stunned him! That bushy-haired girl—I never do remember their names—that Auror Guard never saw it coming—"

If there was a time for swearing, this would have been it. Luckily for Minerva, she didn't hold for such profanity.

"All right, thank you my dear, I want you to go alert Madam Pomfrey to the—"

And again, she was interrupted. The door swung open and that very same Auror Guard who was commanded to watch Miss Granger burst through the door.

"She stunned me, ma'am," Dawlish said, looking winded and disturbed. "I profusely apologize, ma'am, she caught me off guard and I woke up in a closet—"

"How long was he out?" Minerva asked the Fat Lady. If Miss Granger stunned her and Auror Dawlish, then why were the both of them not still down…? Certainly it hadn't been several hours already…

"Time does pass differently for paintings. I would guess a few minutes?" the Fat Lady replied.

"You too, Minnie," said Madame Mordrina. "Only about five minutes, by my count."

_She stunned us...for five minutes?_

At once, Minerva's mind was putting the pieces together. "She was commanded to take us out...perhaps specifically she was told to stun us or perhaps she was given more vague instructions like 'cast them down'. However, the girl is far more clever than this person took her for. Not many wizards know of ways to time a stunner for minutes versus hours or days. The typical one lasts for hours, but if she found out how to use a timed stunner—"

"Then she very well could have planned on her victims being down for mere minutes," finished the Auror Guard, looking impressed. "I've never even heard of a timed stunner in all my training. Why isn't it taught anymore? How did she know about it?"

"Oh, she is an avid reader," Minerva said as she sent out a few Patronuses. "Best in her year, by far. And I'm not surprised the timed stunner was taken out of your curriculum. Robards has never been keen on reasonable force. If you ask me, the Auror department could use a lesson on criminal justice reform. Far be it from me to speak ill of your betters. Now, Madame Mordrina, describe in detail exactly what you saw…"

And so, for the next several moments they listened as the lady in the portrait described exactly what Hermione did. She was moving rather mechanically, showing Dawlish and Minerva that her actions weren't quite her own. She was also carrying a folded piece of old parchment, and Minerva knew of course this must be the infamous Marauders' Map that she'd heard Albus and Remus describe in great detail. This news was disturbing, for she most likely turned it in to the one was controlling her. The fact that she had hidden both the Auror Guard and Minerva was also discommoding, for if she'd specifically sought out both and hidden them, they now needed to determine exactly how many other teachers, Aurors, or students that Hermione could have attacked, and what she could have done with them.

And what else the child was being forced to do.

For the next minute, Minerva commanded dozens of portraits from her office to scour the castle for more unconscious teachers or guards. She and Albus both had ways of alerting the entire castle just from their quarters alone. For hundreds of years, this communication system had saved thousands of lives from the numerous antics of the students as well as teachers and ill-wishers who were less than trustworthy.

"The older years in Hogsmeade must be brought in immediately. I have alerted Severus as well as Albus and Remus, who are both away on business. The Order has been advised, as well as the Aurors, that there is a breach in Hogwarts. And now, to find out what else Miss Granger has been up to…" said Minerva.

They followed her as she went out into the corridor outside her office, casting the spell complex that would allow her to see Hermione's magical footprint. At once, the hallway was lit up with thaumaturgical currents glowing in the air from the lingering spell the girl had cast outside of Minerva's office. They followed the trail as it grew fainter and fainter, but sure enough Hermione's aural trace was a bit more clustered in the middle of the air from where she cast another spell, and around a doorknob from where she'd spelled it open. Inside they found two dazed and confused Hufflepuffs, only recently awoken.

They were getting closer.

Over the next hour, Minerva was able to piece together the excursion Miss Granger took, uncovering student after student, and the occasional teacher. Dawlish split off from Minerva and was able to track down a different set of traces where Miss Granger had been, finding Rubeus locked away (though it took him several tries to get through to the classroom, Dawlish relayed to Minerva) and was able to wake up Filius and Pomona from their timed sleep.

The most astounding of all was what Minerva uncovered in the library. The Ravenclaw Tomb was still laid bare and vulnerable, and Minerva had to hurry herself through her amazement and get back to the task on hand.

As she worked, Minerva tried to remember everything she could about what she read on the Angorian Curse. After Miss Granger left her office yesterday, Minerva owled Albus, alerting him of the situation and asking him if he knew anything of this execrable curse. He'd owled back within a matter of hours, although Remus penned it, and detailed everything he knew.

Just as she'd suspected, Miss Granger couldn't be saved by a simple "_Forget every command you've been told and never obey anyone ever again"._ Of course it wasn't that elementary, otherwise the curse would nullify itself. The Dark purebloods who invented it were far too cunning.

"_The very behaviour of this curse ensures that the victim is forced to obey from the time they are first commanded to their very dying breath," _Albus had said. "_The master had no intention of ever letting his servant fall into enemy hands. He wanted his servant compliant to the master, the master's wife, the presiding house-elf, and any children the master had. Allowing this servant to be docile to more than just himself ensured loyalty to the master's entire wizarding line. Doubly so for when this curse was used upon a wife or child."_

Albus had gone on to say that the only loopholes he could see with this curse was that any time Miss Granger was commanded to do something, she could very well be commanded not to do that very same thing by someone else immediately afterwards, unless specified by the original request.

"_There are rules in this curse that forbid certain things. Obviously if she were commanded to love someone, the best simulacrum that she could give her master is infatuation. Likewise, if she were commanded to give respect, all she could do is show respect. Neither emotion can be forced out of someone, as we learn in Bertram's First Law. But beware of one who might force her to do something regardless of anything that anybody after him might command. It might be wise to go so far as to strictly forbid her from obeying anything that anyone tells her before such a command is given her," _Albus advised. "_But for someone who has her best interests at heart to do this could also make matters far worse. For her to be enslaved to anyone in this way could make the situation catastrophic." _

_And such a thing has indeed happened,_ thought Minerva, fearful for what else Hermione had been commanded to do.

But Minerva could find out what else this person adjured the girl to do. Such a spell was fairly intricate and she herself hadn't cast it in a very long time. Pushing back the sleeves of her wide robes, Minerva performed the Audius conjuration, tracing the runes in the air. Words at once echoed around the room. When the distorted voice finished, the horror of what poor Hermione was being asked to do left her breathless, and Minerva sent a Patronus on the spot to warn young Ronald of the girl's intentions. Perhaps she could save him in time. Perhaps he could stop her before...

Forcing her emotions back down to the back of her mind, Minerva concentrated once more on the task at hand: Finding out who this monster was who was forcing Miss Granger into a house-elf's servitude. The irony of the situation was not lost on her as she realized Hermione was in fact being contrived to behave exactly as pureblood extremists wanted one of her...lineage...to behave.

_And the poor dear was so set on helping house-elves and being a champion to those of lesser fortune._

Hatred for the despicable Dark magic in front of her rose to the forefront and her wand was almost fizzing with the newfound energy as it sculpted more runes in front of her. She was searching...for what she wasn't sure. The Death Eater to have slipped up. For him to have made a mistake, for what he said to have been phrased the wrong way, for her to find some sort of loophole or to pray..._pray_...that her clever student to have found a way out.

There were so many signatures in this room alone...of course, the most vibrant and energized were the remnants of Miss Granger's aura and this Death Eater's...but exactly who it was, Minerva couldn't quite figure out.

She transformed into her Animagus self. As a cat, she was summarily taken aback by the Dark magic she felt. She sneezed several times at the sorcery permeating her senses. Most of it was centuries old and had such a rustic tang to it that Minerva longed to live in such reveled times, when the wizarding world was young and new and not nearly as tainted as it was now. But masking the sensation of such an era was a ghastly fetor.

A very Dark creature had been in this room.

His Dark Mark hung in the air like a rabid animal, snarling and cursing, its malodor poisoning the area surrounding her, chthonically vile. She smelled this person before, lots of times in fact, but the cat's mind did not label and identify every person it came across as a witch would. To do this, she must have her human brain.

Transforming back into her body, Minerva closed her eyes to sort through the hundreds of scents she'd categorized; rifling through until she found the few who made the most sense for this scent to belong to. But it couldn't be this person...or this other wizard...

And then she found the person this scent matched, and her eyes snapped open.

No..._no_...it _couldn't _be...

She almost flew out of the room. Down the library corridors, past the great double doors until her heals clacked on stone once more. Up the stairs, down the last hallway stretch, up until—

"Deputy Headmistress!" a voice called to her. But she had no time to waste, she had to find out—

"_Deputy Headmistress!"_ the voice was insistent, and a ghostly form sped past her and stopped in front of her. She couldn't stop herself in time—but it didn't matter as she went right through his form—

"Sir Nicholas!" she gasped, not even registering the gelidity that came over her. "What is the meaning of this? Can't you see this is urgent—!"

"As is this! The secret corridor of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor has been blasted! She's been obliterated to smithereens, blast the culprit! If I wasn't confined to these castle walls, why I would chase down the scoundrel who would dare besiege our beloved home—!"

"Sir Nicholas, that is hardly appropriate—" Minerva interrupted his ramblings, trying to think of what she should do. If Honeydukes was no longer available, then how else could Severus bring the students through? The road that led from the village to the castle was hardly impregnable. The Death Eater that commanded Miss Granger of course would have thought this would be the next logical step they'd fall back on.

_But if he now has the Map, he knows of the secret tunnel between Remus' new abode and the Whomping Willow as well..._

Minerva paced. The tunnels were out. The main road to Hogsmeade was out. But she couldn't just leave the students outside of the castle without protection. And even if she were to safely bring the students back...would they even be safe inside Hogwarts?

_Oh, Miss Granger...what have you done..._

True to form, Minerva only allowed herself five seconds of hopelessness. They didn't call her Mad Minerva in school for nothing, after all. "Nicholas, I will need you to alert Rubeus of the matter as fast as your spirit body will allow. Tell him to use the spell I always forbade him to practice when he was a boy. He will understand."

"Yes, madame," Sir Nicholas said, saluting her with a pull on his head, showing off his nearly-decapitated neck, before gliding off.

Another Patronus was sent to Severus, alerting him of the change in plans. She knew of one secret tunnel that was still unknown to the so-called Marauders' Map, and that meant her colleague would need to escort the students back through the Hog's Head. She sent another Patronus to Pomona and Filius, instructing them to receive the students at the other end and keep them hidden in the Room of Requirement...

_For safety's sake. After all, there may still be a Death Eater in the castle. _

And Minerva then set off on her original mission of tracking the bastard down.

* * *

Neville didn't quite know of what he expected to find when he reached Honeydukes. A bloody mess and a small, twisted form at the mouth of the alley beside it was definitely not it.

"What is that?" Hannah gasped, hand covering her nose.

Coughing at the stench, Neville hurried forward. It was an animal. Definitely dead...and horribly so. Blood matted its fur and at first he couldn't tell what it was. Someone's pet…?

With a spell, Neville turned the poor thing over.

"Is that a ferret?"

"No," Neville said, bending down to examine it. "Ferrets are more blackish-brown and don't have white underbellies like this one. I'd know, my great-uncle used to breed them. Plus this one's fur is red. It's a weasel."

"What is that on its neck?"

Neville held the collar and tag in his hand, face paling at the name on it.

_Ronald Weasley._

"Is that Ron's pet?" Hannah gasped. "How ghastly! I heard about what happened to Hermione's cat. You reckon it was killed by the same thing? But what beast would be killing animals and not eating them?"

Neville shook his head. "I don't know. But this was done by a person. Look at the incision. That was done by a knife or a wand cut. No animal could make a cut like that."

"A _person? _But who would have—"

"I don't know, Hannah, but we have more important things to worry about…" Neville said, finally noticing the crowd inside of Honeydukes.

He and Hannah walked in, a roar of sound reaching them. Pushing through people, trying to get to the basement, he raised his voice, "Let me through!"

"We _can't_ get through!" shouted Dean Thomas, who was coming out of the tunnel. "It's blocked, Nev! We can't get back to the castle, it's completely caved in! We're trapped!"

_Well, this complicates things..._

* * *

Hermione stood frozen as she felt Lucius Malfoy's body against her own, his tight grip creating bruises she knew she'd feel in the morning...if she lived that long.

She didn't want to live that long. She just wanted to be done with everything. After everything she'd been through, being forced to do unspeakable things, not being able to alert or warn anyone, having to attack half the castle, being told to _kill Ron…_

Even if a miracle occurred...even if the universe accepted her sacrificial offering of that weasel she'd summoned and named Ronald Weasley…even if it worked and she wasn't made to murder the boy she'd loved for years...

An unspeakable grief was drowning her and all the emotion she'd been made to suppress rose up. She couldn't stop the tears streaming down her face, obscuring her view.

_I want to die. I can't face anyone after this. Please, don't let me hurt anybody else. Please just kill me before I'm forced to serve Voldemort for the rest of my life. To kill others on his command. Please, please, just kill me now... _

"Is there anything else you wish of me, Miss Lovegood?" Lucius Malfoy hissed at Luna. "I was being a gentleman to you because of the debt I have owed you for years now. You saved me from Azkaban years ago, and I will never understand why. Thus I will be sparing you tonight, and my wizard's debt will be paid once and for all. But I will still get what I came for, mark my words! For me to go to the Dark Lord without Miss Granger would be suicide. So I will be dealing with Miss Weasley, then I will be taking Miss Granger and be on my merry way. Do you understand, Miss Lovegood?"

The fear on Luna's face was evident.

"Bind her!" Malfoy snapped at Hermione.

The unbeatable urge to obey overwhelmed Hermione. Shooting a spell towards Luna's figure, golden chains shot out of it and lashed around the girl. Tears burned in Hermione's eyes, but anger was prevalent.

"I will kill you," she hissed at him. "I swear, if you make me do anything to them, I will burn your eyes out of your skull and feed them to your sick family."

It was the wrong thing to say. His muscles tensed, and Hermione shivered as the Death Eater's breath licked her skin.

"What an imagination, my dear...perhaps I will let your words come true for your sweet Muggle parents instead," he whispered into her ear. He kept the charade of alluring words, though they were now said with vile hatred. "Tell me, when was the last time you've heard from them again?"

"Don't you dare touch them!" she shrieked, overcome with fear. The wand they were both holding sparked.

"Tsk, tsk...I don't think you are quite in a position to be making demands. Now how to get rid of young Ginevra Weasley?" he continued. "Perhaps I should make you utter the spell that will rid the wizarding world of one more piece of blood traitor filth, Miss Granger. And with your own wand, no less. Tell me...should I make you kill your best friend?"

Ginny froze from the act of getting up as Malfoy lowered Luna's wand—and Hermione's arm—to point at Ginny's heart. Terror filled Hermione's and Ginny's eyes alike.

"Your dear, dear friend," said Malfoy with false sympathy. "And I could arrange Miss Lovegood to remember things quite differently. Like how Miss Granger went on a rampage and murdered half the school before she turned on her best friend. How tragic for you, Miss Granger—"

Fear for everyone in the school she'd left behind whined in her ears. Everyone she stunned...what if she did the timed stunners wrong? What if nobody was waking up and realizing the danger they were in? She had left the castle unprotected...what if Death Eaters were swarming the grounds now, taking out the students hiding in their dorms?

"—but, alas, I'm afraid we have more troubling things to contend with. What say you, my dear? A simple Killing Curse, or should we make Miss Weasley suffer a bit? The Cruciatus Curse is rather a specialty of mine—I had one or two members at home who were quite willing for me to practice on them. However, I do think that the former is more in wanting tonight."

As Malfoy spoke, Hermione felt a tingling in her hand—Malfoy's fist was enclosed around her own, and she could feel the magic pulsating from his grip. There was no way she could overpower him—his magic was far stronger than hers. If only she could channel it somehow...

"—of course, we could always leave Miss Weasley writhing in pain and let her screams attract the dementors—"

Hermione snapped. She forced all of her magic into the wand. What happened next only took seconds.

In a burst of white light, Ginny and Luna were both blasted off their feet. Luna was thrown into the tall grass and disappeared from view, while Ginny was hurled into the forest. A burst of smoke surrounded her and obscured her from Hermione and Lucius Malfoy.

Malfoy growled angrily at Hermione and tried to take back the control over the wand.

"Give—" He roared.

"_No!"_ Hermione snarled, cutting his command off before she was forced to obey. She was a puppet no longer.

His sick, mottled magic simply pulsed as it coursed through his veins and into her hand. He forced the wand upwards, angling it at Hermione's throat again. He formed the words—but the wand was pointing straight up, and Hermione knew then what to do—

"_Impe_—"

"_Morsmordre!" _

The Dark Mark shot out of the wand and illuminated the village of Hogsmeade.

* * *

Completely winded, Ginny lay gasping on the ground. She was Guinevere no longer—simply Ginevra in pain. Did Lucius Malfoy use the Repelling spell to blast Ginny and Hermione away from them? Or had it been Hermione? And where was Luna?

Wheezing, Ginny saw the unconscious girl wrapped in chains in the grass, and her worry increased. Was she all righ—

Ginny gasped as a dark green spell shot out of the wand and formed the Dark Mark high over Hogsmeade. The ground around them glowed an eerie green, reflected from the night sky. Several more screams from Hogsmeade echoed through the air.

But what was more, it had been Hermione's higher voice that cried it out—and Lucius Malfoy apparently didn't want it there, for the next second, Hermione groaned in pain.

Before Ginny could run back over, a hand clamped over her shoulder. She felt a burst of relief at seeing Professor Snape. The older wizard shook his head at Ginny quickly in warning, before moving forward stealthily through the trees.

There was a burst of smoke—Snape shouted out a spell—Malfoy roared in pain—

Ginny ignored Snape's silent command to stay put and ran forward to see what was going on. She nearly stepped on her wand, and picked it up before crashing through the trees.

Lucius Malfoy was sprawled on the road, looking up with a murderous glare. Professor Snape was standing over him, wand trained, while Luna helped a now-freed Hermione off the ground.

Hermione's costume ballgown, heels, and gloves were gone and she was dressed in her ripped white dress once more, hair frizzy. She'd definitely looked better. But a triumphant look was on her face.

"Hermione! Luna!" Ginny gasped, running over.

"Are you girls all right?" said Professor Snape, concern evident in his voice. He didn't even glance up, keeping his eyes and wand trained on Malfoy. "I need the four of you to leave at once! Take Miss Freeman and go directly to the Hog's Head, and don't even think about trying to be heroines—I know how you think—"

"But Professor—"

"_Go!"_

They hurried away.

Ginny helped Luna along, while Hermione half-carried Meghan. They were going as fast as they dared—Luna kept groaning in pain and Hermione kept doubling over.

"What happened to you, Hermione? Did Malfoy use the Cruciatus—"

"N-no," Hermione stammered. "He used a defensive charge. It's a bolt of electricity, like lightning, that he shot through himself to get to me—"

"Did you mean to throw us that far? It had to have been you, it was a white light, and Malfoy's is always green—" Ginny said.

"Sorry, Ginny, but I needed you out of the way. He was stronger than me—I wouldn't have been able to stop him if he used the Killing Curse on you or Luna—so I...I thought if I could repel you far enough, he couldn't see you _to _perform it," Hermione said, clutching her stomach again.

The pain ceased, and they were able to quicken their pace. The Dark Mark still lingered in the sky, covering the moon with an emerald shade. It gave Ginny nightmares just looking at it.

"Why?" Ginny moaned, looking up at it. "_Why_ did you cast it?"

Hermione shivered. "He was about to perform the Killing Curse, Ginny. I could feel the Dark magic building up through his arm and going into my hand. I couldn't do any other spell. And then I had the idea to channel it. I would never have been able to cast the Morsmordre otherwise—it calls for something dark and sinister and tainted—like you have to have the Dark Mark in order to cast it. So when I felt his magic, I just...I just used it."

Ginny couldn't stop staring at the grotesque figure in the sky. "But couldn't you have used a different spell?" she asked savagely. "Why did you have to use _that_ one?"

"Ginny, it was important, don't you understand?" said Hermione, suddenly rounding on her. "There was a reason Malfoy didn't cast it when the dementors arrived! It's because he _didn't_—_want_—_Hogwarts_—_to_—_know! _Just think about it! If he cast the Dark Mark the first moment he got here, he would have had the Aurors here and the Order here and the teachers here and Dumbledore here! The students would have been vacated within moments, and the villagers would all have Aurors at their sides! Whatever he hoped to accomplish by sucking the souls of half the village would have been wasted. Didn't you see how he reacted after I shot the spell? He was furious! He knew that by doing that, we had just alerted the _entire wizarding world!"_

Ginny's mouth formed into an "O" as realization dawned.

"That's probably why Professor Snape got there so quick, as well. Although I bet he only expected Malfoy to be at the other end of his Apparition."

They had reached the main street of Hogsmeade. People were screaming and running left and right—there must have been two dozen dementors on High Street alone. Ginny spotted one dementor already kneeling beside a very hapless and ashen man.

"We need take Meghan to the Hog's Head," Hermione said, still mostly carrying the younger girl.

"No…" Meghan said weakly, pushing away and stumbling upright. "I'm fine. I need...I need to find my mum. I need…I need to find my...my..."

"Meghan!" Hermione called, but Meghan had already run off into the darkness. "Should—should we follow her?"

"You can," said Ginny. She whipped out her wand and started running towards the mayhem in the village. "I'm going to go save who I can!"

"What about what Professor Snape said—" Luna asked, worried.

"Try and stop me!" Ginny said, before charging into the fray, her horse Patronus galloping ahead of her.

* * *

A voice called from the darkness. Ron was rather out of it, but he thought they said something vaguely about expecting something.

"Weasley! WEASLEY!"

Arms shook him.

"G'way," he mumbled.

Cold water spurted all over his face. He sat up, gasping. The first thing he saw was the Dark Mark that now hovered over Hogsmeade. "Bloody hell!"

And then he saw the Slytherin, Meghan Freeman. She stood over him, her face fretful. "Are you all right, Ron? I'm sorry about the cold water, I couldn't wake you! I thought…I thought you were..."

As soon as he sat up, she threw her arms around him. He patted her back awkwardly.

_I guess I'm just hugging Slytherins now..._

Meghan pulled away, and Ron got up, wincing, picking up his sword as he did so. Falling smack down onto the street didn't do him any wonders.

"Er...thanks...Meghan. That was a dementor?"

"Well it was too tall to be a Pygmy Puff."

He ignored her snub. "You went with Ginny and Hermione after the party, didn't you? Have you seen them?"

"Yes, I just left them—"

"Where? Where were they?" Ron asked.

"We were at the Shrieking Shack until we ran into that Death Eater, but then Professor Snape saved us. The last I saw them was on Boar Street—but I need to find my mother—"

He started jogging back to the village.

"Ron, please come with me! I don't want to be alone—I saw her turn the corner just before I fell over you. Please help me find her? Could...could you just help me check the road back to the castle?" she said, hesitant.

"No!" Ron said at once, looking over at her. Despite her callous behavior before, she had tears threatening to spill out of her eyes, and her face was rather gray. He sighed. "All right, just don't...start crying," he said uncomfortably. "I'll help you check the road to make sure she's not on it, but then we need to go back."

She sniffled and nodded, and they trekked down the vacant, winding road, wands out and looking around furtively. It was when they rounded the bend that Ron heard voices up ahead—shouts, screaming. Definitely not good.

"Do you know how to cast a Patronus?" he said, very quietly.

"I cast one to save _you, _didn't I?" she retorted.

"Shh! A simple yes or no would do!" he snapped back.

Freeman nodded, her beads and braids clinking. Without thinking, Ron laid a hand on her head to stop the loud movement. She froze. Raising a finger to his lips, he set off as quickly and quietly down the road as he could, Freeman following just as stealthily.

Not a hundred yards before them, about twenty people—half villagers, half students—were congregated on the road, with a dozen dementors facing them. The only thing that separated the Dark creatures from them was a bright wall of non-corporeal Patronuses being used as a shield, and four people holding it up.

"_Mum!" _

Before Ron could stop her, Meghan Freeman ran towards them. Ron saw another dementor out of the corner of his eye—

"Expecto Patronum!" he yelled. His Patronus shot out towards it.

When he first cast it at their D.A. lessons last year, he thought it was a Jack Russell terrier, but a closer look helped him see the forked tail—it was a crup. With a furious growl, it ran straight for the dementor, knocking it down before it could attack Freeman. He followed it at a run until he reached them, and added it to reinforce the villagers' wall.

It barely registered in his mind that he had just saved a Slytherin. Or that she had saved him just moments before.

_Well, at least it wasn't Malfoy bloody Ferret_…

Ron moved along the small crowd, scanning their faces. He had to physically remove hands grasping at him, grief-stricken people were wailing all around him, their fears made stronger by the amassing dementors.

"Ron Weasley? This way isn't safe!" Aletha Freeman shouted to him above the screaming. "We can't keep holding this shield up much longer, but we can't keep the dementors off _and_ move everyone at the same time! We've already lost five people!"

Ron furrowed his brow. His chess board sprung to mind. At once he saw the dementors as the black pieces, advancing on the losing white players. But if he could just get a few of his pawns past their defenses and to the other side of the board, he could knight them...

"If you try moving everyone at once, the dementors aren't going to leave. They're attracted to the mass of people," said Ron, remembering Harry's words. "Listen, what we need to do is keep your Patronus shield going. The dementors will be distracted by it—they won't notice if someone leads one or two people away. We have to keep the strongest players reinforcing the shield, but someone who can cast a good Patronus needs to lead a small group away to Honeydukes one at a time."

She looked at him.

He added defensively, "It's a classic chess strategy. You create a diversion on the other side of the board, making your opponent think he's going to win—then send one pawn to the other side at a time, with your queen or rook guarding them. And when you get knighted, then you have two of your best players behind enemy lines where they can attack from behind."

"I'll just have to take your word for it. And who do you propose we get to be the guard?" she said, nodding at the people they were guarding. Each of them had sunk to the ground, trying to drown out the sorrow the dementors were feeding them. Ron saw several bodies on the dirt, eyes staring up at the sky, but not really seeing anything. He fought the urge to vomit as he realized that the dementors had already broken through several times.

"I'll do it," he said.

Fear gripped at him—indecision, uncertainty, insecurity, incompetence. What the hell was he doing? Entrusting the lives of two dozen people on his _spellwork?_

"Are you sure you can do this, Ron?" said Ms. Freeman, staring into his eyes.

He looked at her, then slowly nodded. He had no other choice. Sticking his sword into his jeans belt, he rolled up his sleeves.

"If you can just keep holding this up a bit longer," he said. The few witches and wizards beside her that could still cast a Patronus looked weary and troubled—they couldn't keep it up much longer. "I'll take two at a time back to Honeydukes—Freeman and I can both do it, she's got a strong Patronus—"

Fear clouded Aletha Freeman's judgment. "No—"

"Mum, I can do it! I _know_ I can. I've got the best memory there is," said Meghan Freeman, earnestly.

Aletha Freeman took one last look at her daughter before nodding. "All right. I trust you, Pearl. Take the weaker ones first! And be careful! I can't lose you too!" she said, voice breaking.

Ron decided to send Meghan Freeman first with one other student. To his great relief, no dementors followed them. After several seconds, he took off with two villagers, all running as fast as they could.

A small witch clutching his arm suddenly screamed—one of the dementors had broken off from the mass.

Ron shot the spell behind him without even looking. A minute later, they had reached Terry Boot, who was with Fred's group guarding High Street.

"Terry! Take these people to Honeydukes, then come back for more. There's a whole load of people on the road to—"

"Honeydukes tunnel has collapsed! We're taking them to the Hog's Head instead—"

"Are you sure that's safe?" Ron asked. What could be in the Hog's Head? Wouldn't they be sitting ducks?

The grim-faced Ravenclaw nodded. "I guess there's another tunnel that goes to the castle. Go and get some more people and I'll be back to take them there."

Ron turned around and ran back.

Amazingly, his plan was working. It took several more trips of this, and each time more dementors broke off to follow them. Then he came across Meghan Freeman leading three people, all stopped on the road as they faced three dementors. He added his Patronus to hers and they scattered.

He ran back to Aletha Freeman. They had just one more group to go—she insisted on levitating the bodies of the people who'd already been Kissed. The other two people holding up the shield with her— a long-haired wizard and a pretty witch Ron recognized as Madam Rosmerta—charged their now single Patronuses in front of them as they ran.

They reached High Street, but the dementors were closing in on them. Ron let the others go on ahead, and pivoted to face the dementors, his Patronus ready—

Only, the dementors weren't behind him anymore—they had slowed down—turned to something huddled under the eaves of Dervish and Banges—

It was the Prewett children.

Without even thinking about it, he ran back, sending his crup Patronus ahead to defend the kids. The dementors broke away just before Ron got there.

The younger one, Hazel, looked up at Ron with tear-filled eyes as he approached. Her brother held her tight.

"Rusty! Hazel! Where're your parents? What are you doing here? We need to go!"

Sniffling, Rusty Prewett pointed behind Ron. Two bodies were lying in the road. The older man looked like a bigger version of little Rusty, and the other one was unmistakably Hyacinth Prewett.

They were both worse off than dead, their unseeing eyes staring off into the darkness.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hopefully this first scene clears up some questions about Hermione's curse, and how exactly she was able to find loopholes in it before going to Hogsmeade. I thought Malfoy's behaviour towards Luna was obvious, but I added a line that can also clear up some of that confusion as well.**

**Also, please remember to review with constructive criticism. A flame is when the reviewer only points out bad things and doesn't say anything about the things they liked. If you do not like this story or how it is written, then stop reading it. Remember, how you think the characters might react in any given situation is your own opinion. That doesn't make it fact. It doesn't mean you are right and the writer is wrong. All it means is that these characters are teenagers without fully-developed prefrontal cortices, so I chose to write them as such. They are children. They haven't matured yet. They act like spoiled brats sometimes and talk in ways they shouldn't. They still go to junior high/high school. If I had written them as fully-fledged adults who make wise decisions and don't think with their emotions or their groins, you would probably be flaming about how perfect they are. If every character behaved perfectly and made no mistakes, this story wouldn't be fun to read at ALL. They are all in this pickle because they've all made bad choices and are learning from their mistakes. This is what turns children into adults. And this is also one of the reasons why we love the Harry Potter characters and like to read Young Adult fiction. So please...review with love. :) **


	41. Luminauri

**LUMINAURI**

Harry ran towards the Shrieking Shack, his legs groaning in protest. He was still in the middle of Hogsmeade, it would take him forever to get there in time—

Draco Malfoy was being jerked along behind him, and let out several curses that told Harry how much he liked it.

"There's just one thing I don't understand," Harry shouted as they ran, thinking aloud more than anything. The last thing he wanted to do was strike up a conversation with the filthy ferret, but he had to know what was going on. He had to know how exactly Draco Malfoy was involved in this. "How did the Slytherins all know about the attack? And why the hell didn't they tell anyone?"

"How thick are you? Use your head," snapped the blond Slytherin.

Harry's mind was a whirl as they turned onto another street. There were a few dementors in this one, but they were on the far end. Harry hoped they could dodge them all on their way to the known Death Eater—

"Their parents are Death Eaters who would have warned them not to go to Hosmeade on Halloween—" Harry stuttered, answering his own question. "Even if they didn't tell their children everything. If not their parents, then their relatives or friends—and they wouldn't have dared tell anyone else, or their families would be put on Voldemort's hit list—"

"Bravo," said Draco scathingly. "No wonder Granger is the brains of your outfit...you and the Weasel haven't got enough sense to secure the lowest vault in Gringotts..."

Harry wondered how Draco Malfoy could have so much sarcasm in his voice even now. Then he remembered something.

"There weren't any Slytherins in Hogsmeade at all today...except for _you_..." All of a sudden, he felt ringing in his ears as he realized just how Malfoy was related to this attack. "You and Freeman. But Freeman's parents aren't Death Eaters, so I doubt she even knew about it—"

Draco tugged on the chain. "Who bloody cares, Potter? We're on the run from dementors, if you hadn't noticed."

Harry ignored him. "But why did you come back? Feeling guilty for selling out the entire school, weren't you? That's why you told everyone to get to the castle. But we were at that party for over two hours, and I didn't see you there at all—you didn't even go—"

"Potter, could you stop musing and get the bloody move on?" said Draco Malfoy, a bit too forcefully.

"—no, you were outside the entire time, weren't you? Why is that—too high and mighty to join in a bit of revelry with us common folk? Or did you just want to warn everyone _else_ in the village of the oncoming danger, and not us? There were mostly Gryffindors at the party, but there were almost as much from the other houses too. Were you going to leave them hanging up to dry as well?" said Harry, then he scoffed. "Of course you would, you're a Death Eater's son. And worse yet, you're a Death Eater, yourself. Before the party started, I saw you heading towards—"

"Shut UP!" said Draco, looking around uneasily.

For the third time that night, Harry grabbed Draco Malfoy and shoved him against the wall. In that dark alley, Harry was oblivious to the screams and shouts around them.

"It wasn't just you, McLaggen, and Dolohov, was it? _How many spies did Voldemort send to Hogwarts?"_

"I don't know, all right?" Malfoy snapped. "There was me, there was McLaggen obviously, a few other Slytherins that were expelled, I know my dad's done some things, I know Dolohov brought in Greyback, and I know...I know that someone is behind it all. It's not Dolohov or my father, but I don't know who! It's just like I told Granger!"

"Wait, what? When?"

"At the ball. I told Granger not to come to Hogsmeade. I know about the curse on her, so I commanded her to stay in the tower."

"You're lying! Ron and I were with her all night," Harry scoffed.

"No, I'm not. Look, whoever is behind all this told me to make sure she came to Hogsmeade tonight, but I already proved my loyalty, all right? I commanded her not to come, to stay in the tower. _I'm on your side!"_

"Like I believe that. She's in Hogsmeade now, you didn't command her to do anything! You're just lying through your fanged teeth because you were meeting tonight with your bloody father!" Harry accused him, voice raising. "You were trotting over there to make sure that everything was just peachy—that there weren't any hitches in your plan—or did you just want to make sure _Daddy _did a good job?"

Draco Malfoy sighed irritably. "For the love of Godric, Potter, I'm not some stupid spy. Look, there was no way in hell I was going to fully stop this attack from happening—the Dark Lord was going to kill my family! But Hogsmeade is full of purebloods, and so is the school. Believe me, I have no problem with eliminating Squibs and Mudbloods, even the odd blood traitor or two, but this? Planning an attack on an entire wizarding town? On a _school? _THIS is our effing FUTURE! I couldn't just stand by and watch, all right? Is that what you wanted to hear? That I actually have a conscience after all? That I actually care for someone other than myself? That I actually GIVE a damn?"

He was red in the face. It looked like it was killing him to have to even admit this—especially to his school opponent.

Harry, however, had no sympathy. "Then why?" he hissed. "Why would you go and help him?"

Draco Malfoy suddenly roared, "BECAUSE HE'S GOING TO KILL MY _FATHER!" _

Before Harry could say anything, the Dark Mark appeared in the air above them, luminous against the clouds.

Above their shouts, loud bangs could be heard. The screaming was getting closer and the two of them were running out of time.

"So you wanted to make amends for killing innocent people?" said Harry, voice low. "Innocent _purebloods? _I've got news for you—Voldemort doesn't care about you. He doesn't care one wit about any of his followers or any purebloods at all. Half the people he kills are purebloods. Why else would he order an attack on an all-wizarding town? Why else would he want your bloody family killed just because your git of a father couldn't stand up against a measly group of half-grown students?"

The screams in the distance grew louder, and Draco's eyes widened in fear. Villagers surged towards them, casting terrified looks behind them.

"Get to the Hog's Head! It's the safest place! Get to the Hog's Head NOW!" shouted Katie Bell above the din.

Dean Thomas wasn't too far behind her—"You have to split up! You're making more come!"

There were six or seven dementors following the crowd, and more were converging on them as they ran. Draco Malfoy looked at the scene in terror, wanting to run away with them, but Harry wouldn't budge. His face was a mask of fury as he trained his wand on Malfoy.

"How long have you known about the attack?" said Harry.

"Are you trying to kill us?" said Malfoy incredulously, eyes trained on the crowd running towards them.

Harry shouted. "How long?"

"A week, all right?" Malfoy shouted back. "A week! That's when the Dark Lord gave this mission to my father. That's when he found out about the students being in Hogsmeade. That's when he wanted to strike. He knew that Granger and Weasley would be out of the castle. _Now let's get the bloody hell out of here!" _

Harry stared at him, thunderstruck. The air around him grew cold.

"They're...they're after..."

He knew that this attack had been orchestrated by Voldemort. He knew Lucius Malfoy was in charge of it. He knew that the whole Slytherin house was aware of it. But he didn't know that the dementors weren't after the villagers at all. He couldn't know that this wasn't just a mindless attempt at spreading fear into their hearts—these dementors had a purpose.

And Ron and Hermione were the targets.

Malfoy paled; his eyes were fixed on a figure just behind Harry.

Harry suddenly remembered why the air around him was still and frozen; he whipped around to see three dementors gliding towards them. He raised his wand. "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!" _

From Harry's wand, a brilliant stag erupted. Prongs. It brought its head down to charge at the dementors, but Harry didn't stay to watch. He started running once more. He didn't need to yank on the chain this time to get Draco to come along—they were both sprinting pell-mell, side by side. They tore down the street, following the villagers who were running to the Hog's Head. There were more dementors around them—Harry brought his wand forward and Prongs galloped beside them.

He remembered Draco Malfoy's wand in his pocket. "Do you know how to cast the Patronus Charm?" he shouted as they ran.

"Wh...what...is...?"

"_A Patronus_—"

Harry was brought to a sudden halt, and he got jerked backwards—Draco had fallen. Harry could feel the happiness leave him—not that there was much there to begin with, with this new knowledge he had of Voldemort's intentions. He struggled to keep his eyes open—Prongs had left him. There, sprawled on the street, was Draco Malfoy, white face turned up to what must have been ten dementors.

"_Expect...expecto..."_ Harry gasped. He fell to his knees.

He could feel them draw closer. Their rattling breath turned his blood cold.

"_Expe..."_

He closed his eyes. To his left, Draco Malfoy was moaning. Ginny's face flashed in Harry's mind and in his despair he realized he'd never see her face again, never talk to her again, never feel her wrath aimed at him ever again, and Merlin did he want that wrath because it meant they were both alive and together—

"_Ex…expe…eh..."_

"_Expecto Patronum!" _said a voice.

"Aha..." he said vaguely. "That's the phrase..."

Despair left him, until he could finally breathe again.

"They're gone now," said the voice, and Harry opened his eyes to find Luna Lovegood standing above them. Her bright hare hopped around them.

"How?" said Harry, getting up. Draco groaned. "Even my Patronus went out in front of them. How were you able to make them go away entirely?"

Luna shrugged, and said thoughtfully, "Dementors don't like me. It might be because of my influx of Luminauri. They make auras grow brighter."

"She's right too, you know. I mean, about dementors not liking her. On the train-ride in our second year, a dementor got in her compartment and it took one look at Luna and fled. Susan Bones told her aunt, the Minister, who said she never heard anything like it. It's rather odd," said Ginny behind them.

"_Ginny!"_

There was a burst of relief in Harry that he didn't even know he had. The knot in his stomach loosened, his face broke into a grin at the sight of her. And before he could stop himself, he rushed to her and hugged her tight.

Ginny looked taken aback, but hugged him tightly all the same. "Harry, could you ever forgive me? I was so horrible to you. I am so sorry for everything I said! It wasn't true, I know you're not into Cho or Hermione, I was just being a bitch. Please forgive me, Harry. I'm not really mad at you, and there are far more important things to worry about, and I just wasn't being fair to you, and it's this damnable Weasley curse, I can never control my bloody temper—please tell me you still want to be with me—" Her voice ended in a sob, and Harry fervently kissed her in answer.

"It's okay, Gin, I forgive you, I know you didn't mean it—at least, I hoped—and of course I still want to be with you—"

A few feet away from them, Draco was rolling his eyes—apparently, Harry dragging him over just so he could hug and kiss a Weasley did not suit the Slytherin at all.

"Do you mind?" Draco sneered, calling them both something that made Ginny blush red.

But Harry couldn't care less—Ginny was all right. They had made up. She wasn't mad at him after all.

He could face a thousand dementors now. The four of them started off again down the street.

Malfoy swore as Harry tugged him along again. "Do you _mind_ giving me my wand back, Potter? I could have been soulless back there."

"You're soulless anyway," said Ginny, scathingly. "Harry, why on earth are you chained to that git?"

"To keep him in my sight," said Harry, glaring at Malfoy. "And no, I'm not giving you your wand back. You couldn't cast a Patronus Charm if you tried—they require actually feeling good about something."

"Besides, what would come out of it?" sneered Ginny.

"I think it would be a pig," mused Luna from behind them. "It would explain why you look so pink all the time."

Harry and Ginny snorted in laughter. Did Luna just make a joke, or was she really serious? Harry couldn't tell from her spacey smile, but the lack of dementors on this street must have buoyed his mood—with the absence of fear and despair, he was elated...or could that have been because Ginny was there...

Malfoy made to go towards Luna, but the chain held him back. He turned to Harry. "Potter, _give_ me my wand!"

"If you say that again, I swear I'll freeze your teeth together," said Harry, fed up with Malfoy's incessant whining. "Ginny—where's Hermione?"

"I...I don't know, she was right behind me," she said, looking worried. "We were with Meghan, then Meghan ran off looking for someone and I told Hermione to go after her."

Harry felt like swearing again. "And Ron? He was supposed to be looking for you two."

"We...we never saw him. Harry, what if he's—"

"We need to get going," he said, shortly. His happiness was quickly shot down.

Ron missing, Hermione missing...it wouldn't matter if the dementors weren't out. It all led back to Lucius Malfoy. He had to find him—only he could call all the dementors off—

"Hermione and I were at the Shrieking Shack when it happened—we ran into Malfoy—" Ginny said. She looked at Draco. "_Senior."_

Harry and Draco Malfoy both stopped. "You what?"

"Well—we ran into Lucius Malfoy. He got hold of Luna's wand, he tried to kill me, only Hermione blasted me onto my arse, then Hermione cast the Dark Mark, and then Professor Snape appeared and told us to get to the Hog's Head. I reckon Snape is still with him now, probably turning him into the Aurors. You don't need to worry about him—"

Beside Harry, Draco looked worried. "Well, you can count me out," said Draco Malfoy furiously. "I have better things to do, Potter_, _and you're not going to stop me!"

Before anyone could move, Draco suddenly yanked on the chain and an unbalanced Harry fell towards him. With a shout of joy, Draco snatched his wand from Harry, severed the chain, and pointed his wand at them all.

"You think you're so righteous, Potter," he spat. "Thought you could sway me to help you, did you? Well, I've got news for you. I could have overtaken you at any time—I only wanted to keep you from finding my father. And now you have to choose between following me and saving your filthy friends! So which is it, Pothead? Are you going to—how was it you put it—_sell them out?"_

Harry swore loudly as the Slytherin took off down the street, heading for the Shrieking Shack. He started to follow him, but someone was pulling him back—

"No, Ginny—let go, I have to follow him—!"

"Harry, you can't! We need you! He's not important!"

A dozen thoughts spilled over in his mind. He had to follow him, he had to see what he was up to, he had to stop Lucius Malfoy, he had to call off the dementors, he had to prove Draco Malfoy was a spy, he had to—

"Harry!"

He tore his eyes from the departing Draco Malfoy.

Ginny was looking at him like she knew about the internal struggle going on in his head. "Harry, we need you, all right? We have to get the rest of the D.A. inside the tunnel. You can't go after Malfoy—our lives are more important than whether he runs or stays."

"You don't understand, Ginny! He could lead us to his father—he can stop this attack—" Harry shouted.

"Do you really think Lucius Malfoy will call off a hundred dementors just because _you say so_?" she asked. "He's going to listen to Voldemort, not a sixteen-year-old teenager his master keeps trying to kill. Use your head, Harry!"

There was silence after her words.

"But Malfoy has to pay," he finally hissed.

"And he will!" Ginny said earnestly. "But not by you, do you understand? Right now, there are people _dying_, Harry, and we need you to help us fight the dementors off. Please stop thinking about Malfoy and help us!"

Harry stared at her, chest heaving, heart torn in two. She was right...he knew she was right...and that's what made this decision that much harder. He gave one last look at Draco Malfoy's retreating back, then took a deep breath.

"All right. Let's go help get everyone into the Hog's Head and guard the entrance. If Snape said we should go there, then...we probably should."

Ginny and Luna followed him as he led the way to Boar Street. They weren't too far from it. It was more on the outskirts like the Shrieking Shack was. The next road they turned onto was deserted. Luna's hare kept hopping about frivolously, keeping any dementors at bay, and Harry suspected all the people on the street previous had made it to the Hog's Head.

Except, of course, for those who were left off worse than dead. They passed several bodies, clearly Kissed as their eyes rolled in their heads and their limbs flopped around. It was very disturbing, and Harry tried hard not to look at them.

"Nobody's in them," said Luna fearfully, skirting around another body. "Nobody is in there at all..."

_We have to stop this from happening. _The horrors of the night weighed heavily upon them.

When Harry, Ginny, and Luna got to Boar Street, they saw that all chaos had broken out. There were more than fifty dementors on this street alone—it was filled to the brim with members of the school-wide D.A. battling with dementors, villagers alongside them. Half-hearted Patronuses were all over the place, but alone, they only bought their owners a brief amount of time.

At once, the three sprang into action. A stag and a horse galloped through the mass, columns of bright light guarding several students from the terrible onslaught.

And then Harry spotted Michael Corner. Several dementors glided by a doorstep and, looking harder, Harry saw something was there. He thought he was a dementor at first. The older boy was crouched in the dark doorway—he was looking up at the Dark Mark hanging in the sky with a fearful expression, no longer a gothic vampire.

"CORNER! What in the name of Merlin are you doing? Either get into Hog's Head or help us!"

Corner blinked and looked at Harry for several seconds before stuttering. "But what? H-h-how?"

"What do you mean 'how'? Cast a Patronus, or go to the castle and get the bloody Aurors out here!" Harry shouted.

"But I-I-I don't—" said Michael Corner, looking lost and scared—not at all what Harry had seen from the pompous arse.

"I DON'T CARE HOW, JUST GO!" Harry roared.

Corner stumbled away.

Harry felt an annoyance of suspicion. He looked wildly around, but he couldn't see any Hogwarts Aurors anywhere. Or the Order...or any professors...in fact, the only capable adults they'd found had all escaped into the Hog's Head.

Harry looked around at the chaos, watching mere students fight the dark monsters that were attacking them, surging forward, outnumbering them and amassing them.

They couldn't do this alone...they needed help...they needed teachers, the Order, Aurors...and Merlin abroad, he had to find Ron and Hermione...

"Where the hell is everyone?" he said in frustration. "George went to alert the castle ages ago but Hermione might have left us without any sort of defense—I sent Patronuses out to the Ministry and the Order—the effing Mark is brighter than the moon, for Godric's sake! People are screaming, someone should hear them, there should be students coming out of the tunnels and into the castle—_so where the hell is everyone?"_

Fred Weasley appeared at his side, ashen-faced and grim-eyed.

"Well, I don't know about everyone—but most of the scared kiddies and ignorant townsfolk are in the Boy's Head tunnel. There're just the D.A. members here, Harry," said Fred, then he swore. "Where _is _my bloody lookalike? He was supposed to be here forever ago with help! We can't keep doing this by ourselves."

"I know," said Harry, frustrated. "We only have a handful of D.A. members to rely on—even they're getting picked apart..."

"Listen, Harry, they have to get to safety," Fred continued, suddenly more serious than Harry had ever seen him. "There're too many dementors, and not enough Patronuses. I've got near about a dozen people guarding the tunnel with ol' Nev, but the Hog's Head is being ambushed!"

"Have you seen Ron or Hermione?"

"No, but he's been covering the main road to Hogwarts—saved loads of people, Terry Boot told me—dunno about Hermione—"

"All right. Everyone remaining in the streets need to be sent to the cellar. I'll hold the dementors off until help arrives—we can't let them get into the tunnel! _Expecto Patronum!_" said Harry.

"By yourself? Yeah bloody right!" scoffed Fred. He dodged Prongs as it charged at the dementor coming towards them.

"You planning on helping, then?"

"Do Weasleys have freckles?" Fred retorted, his old humor shining forth for a moment.

"Far too many..." Harry said, thinking quickly and looking around. He had to take stock of the situation, they couldn't just send everyone holding up Patronus shields running pell-mell for the tunnel, or the dementors could pick them all off. They had to be smart and quick and calculated, like in chess...

_Where the hell is Ron when you need him? _he thought, before giving orders for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

"Fred, I want you with Neville guarding the tunnel entrance. We need to make sure the rest of the D.A. is at the Hog's Head, and that nobody's missing. This is going to create a big mass for the dementors to feed off of, but I think the Patronuses might be strongest if we can somehow join them together..and we're going to need a really strong wall right now..."

* * *

Hermione didn't know how long she'd been searching.

Frantically, she looked for Meghan while casting her Patronus over terrified, screaming villagers, but it was to no avail. The small Slytherin was fast and Hermione soon lost her in the crowd. But Ginny ordered her to go after Meghan, so she had to keep going. People surged by her, heading for Boar Street, but that wasn't where Meghan had been heading.

_I need to find Ron and Harry. Please, please, let me find them safe… _

There was no way she could leave for Hogwarts without knowing if her best friends had made it out alive. And knowing them, they were right in the thick of things.

She felt the familiar whine of fear and dread that always accompanied thoughts of Ron and Harry in trouble. If they died, she couldn't live with it, they were too much a part of her, they _had _to be here somewhere, alive, unKissed...

As she dodged the crowds, she scanned the ground for the more unfortunate victims; a breath of relief escaped her lips every time she saw an unfamiliar face. But still there were too many of the fallen.

And through it all, the prevalence was growing of her gnawing fear for Ron. Where was Ron, and was he okay, and was he safe…? She had to find him, no matter what.

But there were too many dementors, and too many people to help. Far too many times she had to save others from dementors, the negativity hanging over all of them in their deepest moments of despair. She arrived just in time to save Colin Creevey from receiving his first Kiss; from stopping a dementor in its tracks as it advanced on the girl Krystal from the twins' shop; from breaking up a small group cornering Zacharias Smith and Hannah Abbott.

Everyone was running to the Hog's Head, but it was still a block away and only a few were making it through the wall of dementors surrounding the entire area. Her worry for Ron increased, and if Voldemort was here...

Hermione tried not to think about that as she ran through the darkened, dementor-infested street, Patronus held aloft.

And then she espied a wisp of red hair by the old Apothecary shop. "Ron?" she called out, pushing towards the figure—but it was only Susan Bones.

"Hermione! Hermione, haven't you been told? Harry's telling everyone to get into the Hog's Head! There's a tunnel there—" said Susan, dried tearstains on her cheeks.

"_Harry?_ You've seen Harry? Where is he?"

"About ten minutes ago, but he should be at the Hog's Head too," said Susan.

"What about Ron? Is he there too? And have you seen Meghan Freeman?"

"I...dont know. I haven't seen him. Dunno about her. A couple of others went to make sure there aren't any more people in the south end of town—I think we're the tail-end of it now, so it's our turn to save ourselves. What are you waiting for? Come on!"

She darted away. Hermione bit her lip. Ron would be with Harry, wouldn't he? But what if he wasn't? Her orders were to follow Meghan, and she did, although she couldn't find her, which meant Hermione should be free to go where she wanted to now...

Casting her Patronus again to lead her to Ron, Hermione saw with great relief that it took off towards the Hog's Head. Mind made up, Hermione was about to follow Susan to the Hog's Head when—

"OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!" screamed a shrill voice to her left. The large cushion and heart-shaped crown of a cowering figure was unmistakable. As were the high-pitched words of terror as a dementor swooped in—

"Off with your head! _Off with your head, I say_!" Cho Chang screeched into the dementor's hood. It was unphased, however, as the skeletal hands reached up and grabbed Cho's face. "OFF WITH YOUR HEEEAAAAADDD!"

Hermione sent her Patronus skidding that way, saving Cho just in time. And then there was a bang, and a puff of smoke, and Cho was an evil enchantress no more.

"Cho? What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the Hog's Head? You're Head Girl, you should be in charge of everything—"

"I was so scared!" she cried. "They're everywhere, and I've been trying to help everyone, and I look hideous, and _I can't stop saying those words!"_

Hermione did not have time for this. The impulse to snap at Cho reared its ugly head, but Hermione shoved it down. In the past she probably would have snapped at the older girl for acting childish at a time like this, but her and Ron's truce had been making her realize more and more how important it was to be more compassionate and understanding. She lowered her voice. "I'm sorry you're feeling that way, Cho. At least now you are back to normal. Just focus on getting to the Hog's Head in time, and keep your Patronus out!"

Cho sniffled and nodded and took off with Hermione for the Hog's Head. They both ran, but the dementors were everywhere, and Hermione shot her Patronus into a shop when she saw the dementors leaning over someone. Skidding to a halt, Hermione ran into the shop. The dementor fled from her Patronus, but she saw with a sickened heart that she'd been too late—

The owner of Scrivenshaft's stared straight at her without seeing her at all.

In shock from the horror of what this person had just been through, Hermione stumbled backwards out of the building and back to the road.

_I have to keep going. I have to keep going._

But the mottled face of the dementor wouldn't leave her mind and the sickness of the dementor's act forced it's way out.

Hermione gripped the corner of the building and became sick in the alley beside it.

_Don't think about it. Just keeping going. Find Ron. Find Harry. Just keep going._

Hermione wiped her mouth with her sleeve and Scourgified the ground, then was just about to leave once more when she glanced down the near-deserted alley, and stopped. A red-haired man was lying on the ground before four dementors.

_Ron?_

A scream of panic rose in her throat and Hermione ran forward, desperate to get there in time—

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

A silver beam shot out of her wand and transformed into an otter, racing down the street, clawing up the dementors' robes in an upwards spiral until they fled.

She dropped to the fallen form. Alarmed, Hermione froze when she saw the blood. It was seeping out from the man's chest and running along the cobblestone grooves. She knelt beside him in the alley. With dread, she turned the body over.

"George?" she gasped. "But how…someone said you were going to get help..."

"Her...mione..." His eyes were open, but only just; his face white beneath the cap of red hair. Hermione quickly opened his shirt and used her wand to close the cuts as much as she could. They were just slashed across his chest. Superficial, she hoped, but definitely going to leave some nasty scarring if they weren't taken care of quickly enough. When the bleeding stopped, Hermione picked up his wand and tried to help him up.

She cast her Patronus for the dementors to feed off of while she struggled to get him up. He leaned heavily on her, his head falling on to her chest.

"I...I was...attacked..by...V...V…"

He was clearly bleeding. 'Attacked' was putting it lightly.

"Voldemort?" she whispered. The Dark Lord was here already? Fear surmounted, sweeping over her in droves from the stench of despair surrounding them.

_Get a grip. There is nothing you can do about it right now except get George to safety. Just get him to the Hog's Head and find Ron._

George kept trying to mumble something, but she couldn't make it out. Blood trickled out of his mouth. "George, sshh, you don't need to talk...it isn't safe...we have to go…"_Expecto Patronum!"_

Struggling with his weight, she put one of his arms around her shoulders and put her arm around him. They staggered back the way she came until they were near Boar Street again, just three buildings away from the Hog's Head. But the air was steadily getting colder, and dark forms were speedily descending, enclosing the alley they just came out of.

"_Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!"_

She knew that her Patronus had died out before they even caught up with her. "_Expecto Patronum!"_

The air around her grew thick and dark—all happiness and hope had fled from her—her footsteps slowed until they stopped entirely—and then the dementors surrounded her.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _Mere wisps were the only thing coming out if her wand now. Despair and insanity squeezed tighter and tighter, the breath coming out of her in gasps. It was darkness she felt now, and coldness. She didn't need to turn around to know why, but turn around, she did.

"_Expe...expecto…"_

They had gray cloaks on with thin holes. They didn't have any feet, but simply hovered above the ground like wraiths. Long, skeletal, black and shriveled hands were half-hidden in their sleeves, and their faces were shadowed and covered by their dark hoods. A dry, rattling gasp came from under their cloaks as they stared at her—as they drank in her sight—as they fed on her scent.

As they tried to get to George.

"_No!"_ Hermione whispered, stumbling back with him. Renewed thirst for keeping him alive surfaced. "_Expecto Patronum!"_

Her otter whisked around, but there were too many of them. Some dementors fled, but more replaced them and surged forward. "_Expecto Patronum!_ _Expecto Patronum!"_

There were too many of them. Ten dementors surrounded them...now fifteen…

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

...with more coming every second, coming ever closer for a Kiss...

_"Expecto Patronum! Expecto—_George!"

Her grasp on George slackened too much, and he fell back down to the cobblestones, face down, hood fallen over his head.

Her knees sunk to the ground, but still she held tight to George, keeping them away from him. The dementor closest to her reached out a mottled hand to him, but Hermione wouldn't let them have him. "_Expecto Patronum!_ You can't take him! _Expecto Patronum._.."

Her head hit the ground...George slipped from her grasp...the dementors closed in on them...grabbing George...

"No..._expecto_...don't take him..._expecto...expecto...patronum..._"

A silvery mist seeped out of her wand, but disappeared just as quickly. She couldn't do it. The happy memories just weren't there. There were dark ones, filled with Dolohov and his cruel blade; depressing ones, filled with Voldemort and the Death Eaters taking Ron away from her. She was filled with paralyzing despair.

But she didn't have to have happy memories to cast a shield charm.

With a renewed bout of strength, Hermione projected a powerful shield that blasted the dementors back. The explosion of air left her gasping for breath.

"_George!"_ She crawled over to him, helping him up one more time. "Come on, come on, up we get...we have to keep moving…"

She helped the half-awake twin stand up once more, and they stumbled upwards.

"It's okay, George, we're almost there. We just need to—"

But the words on her lips died off as pain split across her body from the spell that hit her back.

The last thing she saw was a dark form coming closer—there was blood splattered on his cloak—fear for George grew as his attacker came forward. Hermione's mind slipped away just as she fell to the ground, with George falling down with her.

And then she knew no more.

* * *

When Luna was nine, she had a mother. A mother who taught her glorious things, like animals that nobody could see, only believe in; and entire worlds that you could explore in a wardrobe. And every night when she would tuck Luna into bed, Mummy would tell her a bedtime story.

"Now, my sweet moon-girl, It's time for you to sleep. Because when you do, the moon shines brightly and all the Luminauri come out like stars blinking in the night. They will fly to your window like little fairies and make your home be theirs. They are attracted to your aura, you know. Auras and happiness, sleepiness and dreams, are what they love the most, and the more Luminauri you will have surrounding you, the wiser you will be, the more clarity you will have, and you will be the kindest, most generous little girl in all the world," said Mummy.

Luna's eyes were wide as an owl's as she thought about tiny stars dancing around people and making them be better.

"Will they scare me when they come?" She asked her mum in her tinkly little voice.

"Oh, silly owlet, you won't even know they are there. We can't see them, we can only feel them settling in our spirits like pixie dust that gives us wings to fly. But the more moonlight that shines on you, the more Luminauri will come. So always be sure to dance under a full moon, and sleep with your bed against the window, and the moon's radiance in your eyes."

Her mother bent down then, and left a kiss on Luna's forehead, in the dip right between her eyebrows in that sort of kissable spot. And Luna had gone to sleep that night with the moonlight basking on her face and skin, and the Luminauri alighting upon her.

Ever since that night—the very last night she spent with her mother—Luna remembered her mother's tale of the Luminauri. And she could feel them just as she could feel her mother's spirit around her in the wind. Radiating out from her like an extra nightlight just shining right out of her.

And then her mother died...and of a sudden she didn't have Mummy to tuck her into bed at night, leaving a kiss upon her forehead. Her dad tried to fill the gap that her mother left, but there was a huge part of him that went missing after Mum died.

The next night after she died, he came in to tuck Luna into bed. Then he sang her a song her mother used to sing to her—a lullaby to the tune of _Clair de Lune. _Light of the moon.

"Daddy, don't go!" she cried as he finished the song and began to leave. "I'm scared of the night now. Mummy died in the night."

He came back in and sat on her bed, and she saw tears trickle out of his eyes. She reached up a small hand to wipe them away for him. "There's never a reason to be afraid of the night, my little moon-girl. Because the stars will always be shining, even if clouds cover them. And the moon will always be there, even if you can't see it."

"Like on a new moon," she had said wisely. "Is it like Mum? Like how she can see you and me from far up in the sky, but we can't see her?"

He kissed her forehead. "Yes, and she sends us the Luminauri when she sees we need the extra love and the extra courage when we simply miss her too much. But not everyone knows she's there, just like how not everyone know of the Luminauri. Not even I can see the many beautiful things your mother has told us about. But we can search for them, and find the animals that people don't believe in anymore like the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, and the fantastical Thestrals that nobody can see, or the Blubbering Humdinger that can only be heard. Now go to sleep. And dream of the happy times we had with your mother."

She watched him walk away, and turn off the light, and close the door, leaving her room in darkness.

And it was then...only then...that Luna saw the Luminauri for the first time. They were brilliant creatures of white light, and the smiles on their faces when they saw her looking at them filled Luna with awe and amazement.

She saw them now.

Here in the darkness, fleeing from the mass of beings that did not belong in this world. Beings that were born in outer space, though many did not know this.

That's why they were enemies of the Luminauri.

Luna watched it all from her perch at the Hog's Head. Her Patronus shield was brighter than everyone else's, as the last of the villagers ran into the building.

Her Luminauri buzzed around her, positively aglow, infusing her shield with happiness and warmth.

But one person still hadn't come through that she knew about, and she was very worried about him. He wasn't a bad guy really, he was just misunderstood. Lots of people were misunderstood...but him moreso than all the rest. She had gotten quite close to him in the past few weeks. He didn't want anyone else to know though. Even at the masquerade ball he insisted they keep their masks on so nobody would know who they were and that they were with each other.

And Luna hadn't told anyone. He was just being cautious, but she was a woman of her word. Then when he slipped away after the ball, telling her not to go down to the Weasleys' party, she really didn't quite know why until she ran into Mr. Malfoy. It all made sense now though.

So Luna stood with her shield out, keeping an eye out for Draco Malfoy and worrying about where he could have run off to.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Well, there you have it! One minor mystery has been explained: Draco is the one Luna was secretly seeing. We will find more about how that came to be in a later chapter. We found out where George was and that something happened to him. We found out that Voldemort actually sent out a network of spies into Hogwarts, with each having very little knowledge about each other in case one or more got captured, like in the Slytherins' case. And we learned that there is still another spy we do not know about, who may be the key to everything. **

**Until next time! I will be back from my vacation then (greetings from the ocean!) and can work more on the last chapters. I am still hoping to update at least once a week. Thank you for being patient with me! I am eager to get this story done so I can continue work on my next book, which I will be publishing in the next year if all goes well.**

**As always, please leave constructive reviews, let me know what your favorite parts were, and any questions you still need for me to address in the next few chapters. **

**Cheers!**


	42. The Dogfather

**THE DOGFATHER**

They stood in a line around the Hog's Head, their Patronuses out before them forming a bright wall of light. Dozens of dementors faced them, trying to break through their line, slowly eating through the Patronus Shield to get to the members of Dumbledore's Army.

Harry didn't know how long they could hold it. Aletha Freeman was behind them, getting the remaining group of people through to Neville, who was still guarding the tunnel's entrance. There were only thirteen of them outside of the Hog's Head now—Mrs. Freeman, Ginny, Fred, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Michael Corner, Amanda Smythe, Su Li, Luna Lovegood, Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, Ernie Macmillan, and himself.

They were surrounded by scores of dementors—the soul-sucking fiends were too strong and there was too many of them—there was no way the D.A. could keep them all at bay for long, and there was no help coming—they were going to be picked off in no time—

His shield flickered.

_No...I can't give in to this despair...if I do, we're as good as dead..._

But he couldn't help but think that there were still some people unaccounted for, who hadn't gotten into the tunnel safely. It wasn't just Draco Malfoy...nobody knew where Cho Chang, Lavender Brown, or Meghan Freeman were.

And what was more—Ron and Hermione were still missing.

"Has anyone seen Meghan? My daughter, Meghan Freeman? Has she gone into the tunnel yet?" asked Aletha Freeman, her worried voice reaching Harry's ears.

"No, Mrs. Freeman," Harry said while he concentrated on keeping the dementors at bay. "Neville said she hasn't come through yet."

Beside him, tears were streaming down Ginny's cheeks as she struggled to keep the shield up. He knew she was thinking the same thoughts: no one had seen Ron since forever, but he had definitely not gone through the tunnel, and neither had Hermione.

_Where are they?_

* * *

With no other thought, save getting them to safety, Ron picked Rusty and Hazel up in each arm. It would be awkward trying to cast a spell if any dementor got in their way again, but if he ran fast enough—

As quickly as he could manage, he hurried on to the Hog's Head. Ron's feet were pelting the cobblestones, not daring to look behind him. He didn't know how many were following him now, but he was almost there—almost there—

And then he saw Lavender.

"Lavender!" he shouted, heading towards his ex-girlfriend. "Come on! We have to get to the Hog's Head!"

"Ron! What—"

She saw the dementors gathering behind him and gasped.

"Take him! We need to get them to the tunnel!" Ron said. He set Rusty Prewett down, and Lavender grabbed his hand, pulling him along. Hazel, meanwhile, looked behind them over Ron's shoulder, and whimpered.

Dozens upon dozens of dementors hung over them like a shrouded cloak of blackness, only being held aloft by Ron's and Lavender's Patronus shield.

"Come on!" Lavender cried. They took off running once more.

It hit Ron just then how utterly reminiscent this was of just a few short months ago when he was running from Death Eaters with Hermione. _When did my life start to suck this bad?_

He could see the Hog's Head just ahead—Harry and Ginny and Fred were right in front of it—they were ushering D.A. members into the shop, but dozens of dementors were flooding all around them—he and Lavender would never make it through the dementors—

With Hazel holding him tightly, Ron was running faster than he had ever run in his life...at least, that's what it seemed. In reality, it was probably the slowest, as he was carrying some thirty-odd-pound girl and dragging along one hundred-odd-pound teenager and a fifty-odd-pound boy. Hazel began to slip in his arms, and Ron let go of Lavender to hoist her back up again.

The Patronus shield surrounding the Hog's Head was getting fainter and fainter even though they were getting closer. Forty more yards now...thirty-five…

Fred had spotted them. "RON! RON, HURRY! SAVE—"

"I am hurrying!" Ron roared back. "Can't you see I've got luggage?"

"NO! SAVE _CHARLIE!"_

"Save—what?" said Ron. He looked wildly around but didn't see his older brother. Since when was Charlie in Hogsmeade? "Charlie?"

He slowed down, realizing the dementors weren't following him. Then he looked behind him—they had stopped beside a single, fallen form on the ground at the mouth of an alley. The red hair was unmistakable.

Ron's heart leapt into his throat. "CHARLIE!"

But Ron was thirty yards away. There must have been a dozen dementors gathered around him, and Ron's Patronus was little more than a wisp.

Ron couldn't think—couldn't breathe—a loud roaring was rushing in his ears. Raising his wand, he cast the Patronus charm—but there were a hundred dementors in between him and his big brother. His Patronus broke through dozens of them before they descended onto it, feeding off his crup. It never even made it to the ones by Charlie.

He had to do something quick—before they—before he—

He shoved Hazel into Lavender's arms—tried to tell Lavender to take the children and run—to save themselves—but he couldn't even tear his eyes away from Charlie, let alone his mouth. He ran towards him, but his feet felt like lead. It was like trying to run through water...he wasn't getting anywhere...Charlie was too far away, he'd never make it…

"Expecto Patronum!" he gasped, his crup racing towards the dementors. But he was still too far away. The sight of Charlie lying defenseless at the hands of the dementors completely immobilized him. His big brother was lying on the ground as the dementors closed in around him, blocking him from Ron's view.

Ron wasn't even aware of the dementors advancing on him too. All he had eyes for was his big brother. Time stopped as one of the dementors bent down next to Charlie and lowered its hood.

"CHARLIE, NOOOO!"

* * *

For the second time that night, Meghan Freeman had lost someone. A whine of panic grew louder and louder the more she ran down streets, searching for him.

_It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not FAIR!_

She ran down High Street as fast as her legs could carry her. She hadn't run into any dementors, of course—the dementors were all at the Hog's Head, where everyone else was.

When she couldn't find him anywhere, she assumed that he had gone to the Shrieking Shack. It was the only logical place he could be, and Mum said she last saw him running over there...so she left to go find him. She didn't care if it was dangerous, or if she got left behind or Kissed—he meant more to her than anything, and she was going to save him. She had been so sure that he would be at Uncle Moony's house that it came as quite a shock when she got there and he wasn't even there.

_He must have gone to our home,_ she thought. _He must have! _And so, she was now running towards where all the dementors were, instead of running away from them.

If Mama Letha knew what she was doing, she was going to be furious. But Meghan Freeman had other things to worry about besides her mother.

_He has to be there. He must be! Oh, please let him be safe, please let him be safe, please let him be safe...please, oh please don't let the dementors get him!_

She ran down the street, almost to her home—Meghan could see it up ahead—

And then all she saw was the ground—she had run straight into Draco Malfoy. The two Slytherins went sprawling.

"Get OFF me, you gormless freak!" Draco snarled.

"_You're_ the gormless freak!" Meghan retorted. Then she launched herself at him and hugged him tight. "Draco! I was so worried for you! I saw you running off—I thought the dementors had got you—!"

"Get off! Free—Meghan—I told you not to come to Hogsmeade! Why aren't you at the castle?" he said, but nicer this time, shoving her off him. She stood and offered to help him up, but he savagely knocked her hand away before heading in the direction she had just come from.

"But—Draco—where are you going—the Hog's Head is that way—" said Meghan.

"I don't care about the Hog's Head! I have to go to the Shrieking Sha—"

"But you _can't!_ The dementors will get you! Please, please don't go, come with me!" said Meghan. She was surprised by the sincerity in her voice, by the tears that were starting to flow.

"I can't! I have to go! Look, you need to get to safety, all right? I don't want you to get hurt. Now let go of me!" he said, furious, trying to wrench his cloak from her grasp.

Just then, a loud shout came from up the small hill. He swiveled around and stared, aghast. Draco took two steps towards the Shrieking Shack, but Meghan would have none of it. She grabbed his robes and stopped him in his tracks.

"_Please,_ Draco! Come _on! _They're coming! We have to go! You have to come with—"

He tried to wrench his cloak from her hands. "Let go! I have to—"

"No! I won't let you!"

"Freeman, I _swear_—"

"Don't GO—"

She stopped.

What felt like fire went through her navel—a spell was shot at her from where Draco Malfoy was standing, wand in hand, eyes aghast at what he had just done. Meghan felt very cold and very hot all at once.

It was as she was falling to the ground that she saw them. Behind Draco Malfoy there were more than two dozen dementors gliding towards them.

And for the second time that night, Meghan knew no more.

* * *

Neville liked to think that there was a reason that made Harry pick him for defending the tunnel.

"I know you can do this, all right?" Harry had said. "I need you to make sure everyone gets through safely!"

And made sure, he did. His badger remained with him the entire time as he guided witch after wizard through. But one witch hadn't yet reached the tunnel, and Neville had felt an increasing worry when she kept not appearing.

And he kept worrying.

_Just stop it, all right? Stop worrying. You can do this. Be brave. Like Harry._

He definitely thought a lot of his classmate, that was for sure. But everyone did, didn't they? Harry was...something else.

_Well...everyone except Gran_, he thought ruefully as he helped three seventh-year Hufflepuffs into the tunnel.

Her words at the start of the year in front of the Hogwarts' Express came back to him. There she'd been, critizing Harry right in front of him again. Then she called him a name that he'd never heard come out of her mouth before.

"Gran!" said Neville, shocked. "He saved me! He's my best friend! I—I couldn't ignore him!"

"Be as it may, he brought you straight into that Lestrange witch's hands! I am very proud of you, my boy, for how you've conducted yourself, even though you did break your father's wand, but I will not have you go gallivanting into danger with that Potter boy! If you have to converse with him, then be civil, but don't you be throwing yourself in his path when he goes off on another one of his adventures. I remember the news from your first year all too well—that boy Petrified you!" she said, outraged.

Neville spluttered, trying to come up with the words to defend Harry, but his brain wasn't quick enough, for Gran cut in again.

"Now, dear, I don't want you to befriend any riff-raff this year. I heard you liked that Lovegood girl—she's an odd sort. Stay clear of her. And you'd do best to leave those Weasleys alone. And that Potter...after what he put you through last year—I'm sure that boy is an okay sort, even though he did Petrify you in your first year, and it was horrid what the Daily Prophet did to him, but if you go on another of those 'escapades' with him, while I'll—I'll—"

But Neville would have none of it.

"Gran, I—I'm friends with Harry Potter, and that's it!" he suddenly said, not without politeness. "He's saved me loads of times, and if he needs me to do the favor, then I will! And he didn't Petrify me in first year—Hermione did. And you like her anyway, so there's nothing bad you can say about her now. And as for the others—the Weasleys are the best wizarding family there is—I'm surprised Mr. Weasley didn't become Minister! And Ron's a swell guy, he sticks up for me all the time when the other students make fun, and his sister is just like him. I admit, Luna Lovegood is odd, but that's what makes her so likable, and her father was the only one who printed the truth all last year, and I know you read that article more than once! As for the Freemans…well…I don't even know them, but they look like a decent sort. So if you don't mind, I'll make friends as I please! That's what Mum and Dad would want, after all, and I…well, I reckon they'd want you to be happy that I've found them. Now, I love you and…and have a good year!"

He picked up his bags, gave her stony cheek a kiss (as was proper), and left.

Gran just stared after him, speechless.

_I hope she's changed her mind since then, anyway. Merlin's balls, it would be mortifying to invite Harry over for dinner with her sniping at him like that—_

"NEVILLE! Quit daydreaming and look out!" Seamus roared into the window from the back porch.

Just in time, Neville's head snapped up and stared right at the dementor that had broken through the Patronus shield surrounding the building.

He thought of his Gran and how much he loved her, even with her stern demeanor. "_Expecto Patronum!" _

His badger scurried out of his wand with ferocity, tearing into the dementor ten times its size, scaring it off before the dementor could eve nthink about feasting on it. Neville's jubilation was elided, however, when he looked out the side window the dementor came through. And into the mass of dementors, he saw Meghan Freeman. She was standing next to Draco Malfoy—until she wasn't.

Neville watched wide-eyed as a spell shot towards her, and she fell to the ground. But what was even more worrisome than that was the mass of dementors heading straight towards the two of them.

"Meghan!"

Neville shot out of the pub and ran over to where Su Li stood, a look of fierce concentration on her face as she fought to keep her Patronus a part of the decaying shield.

"Move—I have to get through—"

But there was no way around their white barrier, or through the black mass of dementors just behind it.

"Neville—no—go back—"

"But Meghan Freeman's out there! And Draco Malfoy!"

"_What?"_

"MEGHAN!" Neville shouted, trying to get past Seamus. "Let me OUT! The dementors are going to Kiss them! _Meghan!"_

* * *

Ginny couldn't take it anymore.

The last D.A. members could only watch helplessly as the dementors converged around the ones left behind.

The Patronus Shield flickered. The dementors before them started leaving as they saw more defenseless prey behind them. Cho Chang and Lavender Brown were being cornered by another group of dementors before ever reaching the pub. Despair dug its claws into the D.A. members, being made to watch as Ron, Charlie, Meghan, Cho, Lavender, and even Draco Malfoy battled feebly against the oncoming dementors.

It was evidently clear that the D.A. could never break through the hundreds of dementors around them. And even if any of them tried to leave to help the others, the Patronus shield would be broken, and the others' Patronuses wouldn't be enough to fight the onslaught.

It was an impossible situation.

"RON!" Ginny shouted, tears flowing down her cheeks. "CHARLIE! _RON!"_

She couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't lose Ron...he meant too much...she could never lose Charlie...

The despair was too great—her Patronus flickered, and then vanished. She sunk to her knees, the darkness converging on her. Beside her, Su Li passed out, her Patronus disappearing as well. The gap in the shield was too big…

Dementors surged inside.

* * *

"Expect..._Expecto._.." Harry whispered.

The others couldn't keep it up anymore. Michael Corner was slumped to the ground, eyes half-shut. Ernie Macmillan was sprawled on the steps. Amanda Smythe's eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she was gone.

With all of his might, Harry put everything he could into his Patronus shield, trying to connect it to Fred Weasley's, who was standing on the other side of the unconscious Dean Thomas. Dementors immersed onto their broken chain, forcing themselves upon it.

_I can't let them through! _Harry thought, putting all his effort into keeping the shield up. Happy thoughts flowed through his mind, one after another. Being at the World Cup, getting the egg from the dragon, going out with Cho Chang, starting up the D.A., beating Slytherin at Quidditch...being with Ginny...watching her...dancing with her...kissing her...

Angelina Johnson stumbled back, then collapsed. Lee Jordan was just a second behind her. Fred was the last of them to fall. He sunk to his knees beside Harry, wand still out, though the bright white stream coming from his wand was fading.

"Harry…" he said wearily. "If this is the end...it was nice knowing you, mate."

"This isn't the end," Harry whispered firmly. "They will come. Someone will come."

"For what it's worth...George and I were right mad at you. He...he overheard you talking with Cho...about her telling you she's in love with you...and we thought you were cheating on our sister."

"We're not dying, Fred, you don't have to spill all your secrets—and you _know _I'd never do that to Ginny—" Harry started.

"Still…we...shoulda...known better. There's...there's…"

But what Fred was going to say was lost, for he finally slumped over.

Harry was on his own.

The happy memories were slowing down. Harry struggled to remember the better parts of the past summer...being with the Weasleys...being named Captain...seeing Prongs again... But Prongs alone wasn't enough for a hundred dementors. His Patronus barely covered those around him. His shield was fading...

"Expecto Patronum!" he cried, voice breaking. "_Expecto Patronum!_ EXPECTO PATRONUM! _EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

He was so focused on keeping his shield up that he didn't even see the dementor pass through the edge of it and advance towards them. But Michael Corner did. His eyes were fixated on a point behind Harry.

"Harry..." he gasped. "_Ginny!"_

Harry swiveled around to where Ginny had been standing. Now the dementor stood in his spot.

It hovered over the semi-conscious Ginny, who was slouched against the building in a sitting position. Her face—usually so round and robust and jovial—now looked dead. Her freckles were a sharp contrast to her white skin, and her half-opened eyes held no warmth—all the life seemed to have gone out of her as the dementor's black, gaping hole completely covered Ginny's mouth—

"No!" Harry gasped.

But it was too late.

Ginny was being Kissed by a dementor.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry roared.

He watched as Prongs—the only thing guarding him and the others from the dementors—left him and ran to Ginny. He saw Prongs charge down the dementor, forcing it from her lips before its sickly sucking breath could be heard…

Ginny fell against the ground, face pale, but soul intact.

He crawled to her, heart in throat, cradling her head. Trying to wake her up, all Harry could think about was if the dementor got any parts of her soul. Could someone live with only most of a soul—?

"Ginny!" he gasped. "_Ginny, wake up! _Wake _up!"_

Her eyes opened marginally, to Harry's undying relief, and said "Har...ry?"

He kissed her, full on the mouth, as if trying to make sure her soul was still inside her. Making sure none of it escaped and—if any bits of it had—almost trying to shove it back down her mouth with his while Prongs stood over them, protecting them.

Until he was gone.

"No! No, no, Prongs..._Expecto Patronum_..._Expecto Patronum…"_

But the dementors sucked up any wisp escaping his wand that the hope drained from Harry.

The shield guarding them from the dementors was gone. The darkness now faced them, unhindered by light and hope. Dementors surrounded Harry, forcing him to the ground, wand falling from his grasp. Weakened, Harry tried shoving Ginny behind him. He was never, _ever_ ging to let them near her again…he would never let the dementors come near the D.A. fallen to the ground behind him. If he fell, the dementors would get them all.

"_Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!"_

And then Harry's vision clouded…

Rattling noises echoed all around him...he felt his face being forced upwards by cold, clammy hands...he was staring right into the black hole that was underneath the dementor's hood...

And then he saw a light.

A bright, white dog leapt out of the darkness and attacked the dementors surrounding Harry, scaring them away.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes—

It was Padfoot.

* * *

Meghan Freeman hadn't always been Meghan Freeman.

Freeman was her mother's maiden name, actually. But for as long as Meghan could remember, that was who she had been, so that's who she stayed.

She had grown up without a father. For years, she bugged her mother about it, and for years her mother pursed her lips and said nothing. But when her mother thought she was sleeping, Meghan heard her crying into her pillow and cursing her father's name.

It was then that she knew who her father was. She didn't tell anyone—she hardly had any friends in the Slytherin house, although by herself she was rather quite likable. It's just that the other Slytherins were so rude, and she knew if they ever found out who her father was, she'd be worse off than a thestral locked in a vegetable garden.

But then Draco Malfoy found out.

It had been in her second year—him in his third—when the dementors came to Hogwarts. He found her crying in the bathroom facing a boggart that had burst out of the pipe while she was washing her hands. He saved her—she was too frightened to do anything, and the second-years hadn't been taught that magic yet. The boggart was standing over her, looking and sounding just like her father.

Sirius Black.

Naturally, he was dumbfounded. Besides the fact that they were apparently cousins on the Black side; when she had been crying on the floor as he battled it, she saw that they had something in common—

The boggart had turned into Draco's father too.

From that moment on, Meghan Freeman and Draco Malfoy began speaking to each other. Having bad and absent fathers gave them both something to talk about. Sometimes, they shared secrets. He told her things he hadn't told anyone else before, and she did the same.

Like when she found out her father was good after all.

And when she met him for the first time.

But outside of these private conversations, they were careful to not let anyone know they were friends—in fact, they were hardly even that. Neither of them really knew how to be one, after all. They got in quarrels more often than not, and still referred to each other by their surnames. In front of other people, he was still rather rude to her—and she would exact revenge in the form of calling him names behind his back, or resorting to hexes and jinxes when he least expected it.

But then he would tell her he needed to talk to her, and in the quiet of an empty room, they became almost-friends again. When they passed in the corridor, she would secretly wink at him, and that's how he knew she had something to tell him. And when the older Slytherins were picking on her, he would show up and give them detentions, and that's how she knew that he was secretly looking out for her...even if he wouldn't admit it to himself.

However, there were still many secrets she kept from him, as she was sure he kept things from her. Her real age was one of them. All things considering, she should have been a fourth-year, not in fifth. But something special had happened to her to make Dumbledore need to take her in early. _That_ secret was something else she kept from him.

Her father still being alive…

Well, that was another.

And as she lay in the middle of the street, dementors fleeing around her, Meghan Freeman opened her eyes to see Dadfoot and Mama Letha come to save her.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was a foul git.

He knew that. Everyone did. But when he shot that spell at Meghan Freeman, he felt guilt and remorse. Guilty for making her double over in pain. Remorse for hurting her when she truly did care for him. But the whine of panic and worry he felt for his parents was far too immeasurable for him to do more than cast a defensive shield around her to protect her from the dementors.

And then he saw Meghan's mother running towards her, Patronus leaping ahead, and he felt a rush of relief.

He heard a ruckus behind him and glanced back to find Aurors popping up around the Hog's Head.

_If they are here...that means the wards Father cast around Hogsmeade must be down. If they're here, that means…_

He took off again towards the Shrieking Shack. Fear gripped him as he sprinted up the path. It twisted and turned uphill, but he—

"Draco!"

Her voice rang out in the darkness, and Draco whirled around, clamping his hand on her mouth frantically when she came closer.

"Sshh!" he whispered. "They'll hear you!"

"I'm not scared of dementors, Draco. They're quite all right, actually, when you're not afraid of them," Luna reassured him with a smile. "I'm more concerned about why you want to run towards danger instead of away from it."

He didn't have time for her peculiarities. "Not now, Luna—"

"Oh, I'm not trying to convince you to come back with me. I saw that Meghan already tried. I want to come with you. In case there are more dementors. You don't know how to cast that one charm, remember?"

Draco stopped, realizing she was right. He bit back a swear word. Torn between not wanting to endanger her, and yet wanting protection, his Slytherin side finally won out. Someone had said earlier about how dementors didn't like her. He knew that if she came, he was in capable hands...however odd it was that they were Luna's.

Someone he had really quite grown to like...against his own judgment.

"All right. You can come. But quietly, all right? And wand out."

She nodded, then reached behind her ear, where she tucked her wand, and held it aloft in her left hand.

Then he took off down the road that twisted off into the woods with her beside him. There were actually (suspiciously) no dementors. The shouts and sounds of the village below were fading away the farther they got.

"Dementors are drawn to emotions, you know," Luna conversed as she trotted to keep up with him. "But if there weren't any emotions...they wouldn't be drawn to anything, right? Dementors have only empty eye sockets. They can not see in the physical sense. Quite like my Great-Great-Grandfather. He only had one good eye—"

"They're only drawn to emotions…" Draco repeated, dazed. "You're right! So if any more of them come...all we have to do is be completely rid of our emotions..."

_Easier said than done, though…_

Mind spinning, Draco wondered why he hadn't thought of it before.

But just as they were rounding the last corner to be in full view of the Shack, Draco saw something that turned his heart to ice, and he threw himself and Luna behind a tree before they could be seen.

Lord Voldemort was here.

* * *

Ron was running towards Charlie faster than he had ever run in his life. His bravado was gone, his courage had failed, his hope was lost.

But he still had his wand.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he roared.

His silver crup came shooting out of it and tore into the dementors surrounding Charlie. From the force of his spell, they scattered and fled.

Except for one.

A dementor was Kissing the prone form on the ground, the hood that had previously covered it drawn back. The red hair of his older brother was unmistakable.

Ron blinked, not comprehending.

A second later, the dementor got up and looked at Ron with its hidden, eyeless face.

The deed was done.

"No..." Ron whispered. "_NO!"_

A grief rose over him so great that he forgot who he was, where he was, what he was. All he knew was his brother—_Charlie—_was gone. His face was white, he was staring out unseeing into the night and everything that made him who he was…

Was gone.

Fury for the unnatural monster before him struck him like a crescendo. Wand forgotten, Ron's fingers clenched over the sword still in his hand and he brought it back behind his head, elbows bent, then viciously stabbed the horrible beast.

A horrifying shriek filled the air as the dementor slammed backwards into the stone wall behind it, sword sticking straight through its chest and pinning it there. The scream pierced Ron's ears in its wretchedness until, in a cloud of darkness, the dementor just..._vanished_...like an explosion of shadows...like it was sucked right into the sword...and the scream died.

Ron stared at the blackened spot in front of him, sword still stuck between stones, blade wavering in the air. Then he staggered over to the still form on the ground. Ron felt hot tears leak out his eyes, even as his legs sunk down, knees hitting the cobblestones painfully.

Charlie stared up at him, without seeing him, his gaze vacant, his mouth groaning.

"Charlie..._no_…." he whispered brokenly.

Ron reached a shaking hand out to his brother—

But something cracked hard into the back of his skull, and he went down hard, unable to protect even Charlie as he did so. Dazed, confused, Ron coughed and tried to turn around—to see what the hell—

A heavy boot pressed down in between his shoulder blades, mercilessly forcing his face into the cobblestones.

"You don't know how long I've been wanting to do that," a voice said coldly.

_I know that voice. But that's impossible. Why the hell is he—_

"RON—!"

He heard someone call his name before that cry was suddenly silenced. Then Ron felt a sharp stabbing pain as a spell was shot into his back.

Darkness reigned.

* * *

Lavender couldn't just leave Ron behind. She was still in love with him, she knew. But the children he gave to her to take to safety changed everything. There was no way she was going to let them be hurt.

"Come on….come on, we make it...Ron will be just fine…" she gasped to them as she ran. Or waddled, more like, with the little girl she now held. But she was waddling as she fast as she could.

It was enough, because she caught up with Cho Chang, the rigid Head Girl, and Chang saw them and grabbed Rusty's other hand, pulling them along faster.

But then some of the dementors converging around the pub turned on them. The surrounding air was thick with mottled anguish as it poisoned them, seeping into their souls, the sickness leaving them weak and despondent, and Lavender couldn't take it anymore.

"_Expecto...expect…"_

Both she and Chang cast the spell...or tried to. Wisps came out of their wands, but the nothings were so small that the dementors sucked them up seemingly in one breath, before turning onto the girls again.

"No...keep it up, Brown! _Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!_" Chang said.

A terse irritation spring up at the Head Girl being so commandeering—Lavender _really _hated when girls were so bossy—but Lavender kept trying to cast the spell over and over again anyway.

The small girl suddenly became limp in Lavender's arms. A mottled, skeletal hand reached out for the little girl's blonde hair.

"No...don't take her..." she whispered faintly.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _Chang shrieked, and finally a white-silver..._something_...ghosted out of the Ravenclaw's wand and the dementor closing in on Lavender had something else to feed off of. "Brown! _Brown_—come on—we need to get into the Hog's Head—" Chang said.

She helped Lavender up, then picked up the little boy, who was unconscious as well. Chang pulled the boy along, half-supporting his weight.

"Come on, guys...we're almost there...I've got you..."

"No...don't forget...Ron...and...and..."

Lavender was trying not to think about that. Was Ron okay? Was he right behind them? And what about the little girl? She was so cold—what if they were too late to save the little girl? What if dementors worked differently on children? Maybe they didn't have to be Kissed like teenagers and adults, but the mere depression the dementors left was enough for them to never wake up…

Trying not to look down at her, Lavender was afraid the little girl would only have eyes half-open; her cold body there, but her soul gone.

"I...I don't know," said Chang. "Come on, just a few more yards..."

Ahead of them, the Hog's Head was surrounded by dementors. But finally—_finally!_—cracks of apparition were heard as Aurors were able to break through the anti-apparition wards put up around Hogsmeade. Lavender heard several people talking about it, but she didn't know who. Patronuses ran everywhere around them, and the dementors began to flee.

"It's the Aurors!" Chang breathed.

Almost giddy, Lavender adjusted her grip on the little girl. "I can't believe it, they've finally broken through—!"

She chanced a look back to tell Ron. The giddy shout froze in her throat, however, when she saw the masked Death Eater standing over her old boyfriend. They were in the shadows of an alleyway—she couldn't really tell what was going on—but knew in her heart that it was bad bad _bad—_

It was the last thought she had before an unseen dementor glided into view.

"RON—" she screamed.

Its mouth enclosed over hers.

* * *

The Dark Lord's wretched voice rang out into the cold night. Although it was higher, and almost always spoken in a whisper, his very presence seemed to suck the sound out of the air itself; and one couldn't help but shudder from how much impact his quiet tones made in the stillness.

Draco was breathing so hard and fast that it was a miracle the Dark Lord didn't hear it. Luna's hand was clenching his tightly, and the normally unflappable girl was notably disconcerted. Daring to sneak a peak beyond their hiding place, Draco saw with terror that—along with the Dark Lord and several members of his inner circle—his mother was there as well.

Things were very bad.

Lord Voldemort was standing, always taller than the rest, speaking in cold tones at Father and Mother, who laid prostrate before him on the ground. They were grovelling, their words burning forever in Draco's memory. Never before had he ever heard his parents sound the way they did now.

"Please, my lord, there is still time—"

"He's just a boy, you can't take him—"

"We'll find another solution—"

"_Silence!" _The Dark Lord hissed, his words echoing around the small clearing. "You dare question me? This has been his fate since the beginning. They were supposed to have their souls sucked tonight and yet you failed once again. You have thrice disappointed me and because of this, I have no more mercy. I will take him, and when I do, you will no longer be able to stop me."

Luna's breath sucked in. Draco's face paled. They both knew who the Dark Lord was speaking of.

_Why does he want me? To be a Death Eater?_

But as soon as the thought came, he knew it was false. His father was only too willing to hand Draco to the Dark Lord, for him to mark and make one of his own. That had been Draco's fate since before he was born. A reason he felt his father never grew close to him for. Why his father always held his distance, disciplining Draco with curses before he could even talk, forcing him to obey. The Dark Lord always prized obedience the most out of his followers, after all.

"You _can't _take him!" Mother's voice, always so prim and refined, was now laced with desperation. "I won't let you sacrifice him—!"

What cut his mother's words from her mouth was no interruption. It was a look so evil that her face turned white, her speech dying instantly. Lord Voldemort stepped closer to her, ever closer, his eyes murderous.

"I have only one answer for someone who would dare command me," he said. "_Avada Kedavra!"_

"NO! NO! No, no, no! _Narcissa!_ No, my lord! Please! _Narcissa_! Please, my lord—"

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

And Lucius Malfoy's pleas were silenced.

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun DUN!**


	43. The Dementor's Despair

**THE DEMENTOR'S DESPAIR **

"...it was a miracle they survived…"

"A miracle? Arthur, it never should have happened in the first place—"

"Dad, do we know anything about—"

"No...no, they still can't...can't..."

"Has he woken yet? Does he know?"

"No...no, he doesn't know yet…"

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this. We weren't supposed to find them...to find…" there was a choked sob and the rest of her sentence was lost.

Harry's eyes snapped open.

He was in the hospital wing. The moonlight shone through the wall of windows. A curtain surrounded his bed, ensconcing him from the quiet murmurs and cries he was hearing all around the room.

_Why, why, why, am I forever waking up in the hospital wing? _He thought groggily to himself. The night's events replayed in his mind, and he suddenly sat up. Where was Ginny? Ginny, Ron, Hermione, the D.A…

Looking around, he saw the white Patronus Padfoot come trotting in through a gap in the curtains. _Whose Patronus is Padfoot? Lupin's? Was Lupin even there? _

But it wasn't a Patronus, because Padfoot transformed as soon as he saw Harry was awake, and ran to him, engulfing the stunned boy in a massive hug.

It was his godfather.

"_Sirius?"_

Words escaped him. Seeing Sirius Black standing there made him forget how to talk. Like he was a little boy again, wondering when his Dad was going to come and save him from his wretched relatives.

Without saying anything, he launched himself at his godfather, burying himself into Sirius' shirt, smelling him, feeling that he was real.

Seconds, minutes, hours elapsed. Harry finally pulled away, and realized he soaked Sirius' shirt. "Sorry," he choked out.

"Not at all," Sirius said. "After all...it's not every day that someone you love comes back from the dead."

It was surreal, sitting by him, talking to him. Dazed, Harry reached up a hand and touched his face. Sirius grinned, and the infectiousness of his smile made Harry smile through his tears.

"But...but...why are you though?" said Harry. "Back, I mean...from the dead…"

"I didn't die, Harry," Sirius said. He shook his roguish black hair away from his eyes. "That veil that I fell through in the Department of Mysteries...it was a portal. Like a portkey, really. But where portkeys take you through space, that one took me...through _time_."

"Through..._time?"_ Harry repeated, not comprehending.

Sirius nodded. "Through time. The whispering we would always hear from the Veil...it was other people standing in front of it from various points of the past! It was truly magnificent, going through it. What an adventure! Nobody from the Department of Mysteries knew, of course. There've been dozens of tests on that Veil, even people going through it, but nobody and nothing has ever come _out _of it before...except me."

"But how is that different than a time turner?" Harry asked, remembering his third year trip through time.

"Oh, time turners are very different. They can go backwards into the past, but never forwards. And it can only be for mere hours. The user always has to let time catch up with them. This Veil though...it's one-way like those time turners are, but into the _future_ instead of the past. It's very tricky, messing with time. Wizarding kind has never been able to go backwards and forwards in time before, besides—"

"—besides Merlin, yeah, I know…" said Harry. His mind was awhir with other things. "When did you come out of the Veil?"

"I was in there from last June, when I fell through, straight to September. The beginning of last month. I missed the entire summer. Of course, it only happened in seconds to me. When I stumbled out of it, I didn't know what to expect. What time I was in. It took me a bit to even figure out that I had gone forward in time after all. I...had a rough go of it to be honest. Dumbledore came to London and found out what happened to me. He told me about the rest of that night, how everyone thought I was...dead. I knew I couldn't ever let you think that, Harry. I wanted to see you right away, Harry, but you'd already left for Hogwarts, and Dumbledore convinced me to wait. I followed you, you know… I had to make sure you were all right. But I couldn't let anyone see that I was still alive. Dumbledore was very strict about this being only between him and me. But I had to see you, Harry. I had to see Aletha. I had to see the daughter we share...the daughter she had to raise without me while I was in prison…" Sirius trailed off, his eyes growing misty.

"Wait, _what?"_

"I have a daughter, Harry. One I...I didn't even know about," Sirius reiterated, still shaking his head in disbelief. "When Aletha found out I wasn't a Death Eater after all—that I didn't sell out James and Lily—she began to trust me enough to tell me. And then I...I _met _my Meghan…"

Harry was in shock. _Meghan Freeman is Sirius' daughter?_

If he wasn't sitting down already, he would really need to sit down. This was beyond believable.

_It's no wonder she looked so familiar...I could see bits of Sirius in her. Like her gray eyes. And her devil-may-care attitude. And how she is just so secretive all the time. _

"Wait—how is she?" Harry started, remembering the dementors coming for her. "The dementors—?"

"See for yourself," Sirius said, waving them over, and Aletha and Meghan Freeman came over to join them.

"Harry, I'm so glad to see you're all right," said Aletha with a warm, comforting smile. She started checking his vitals, and he relished in her cool hands on his forehead, being taken care of like she was his mother, or his aunt.

But he didn't need to be babied. He was just fine. And as nice as it was to hide in this little bubble of a tent, he knew it was time to go see the damage of everything that had happened. To see how Ron and Hermione were doing, and why they weren't at his bedside...to go make sure Ginny was okay, that she wasn't missing a bit of her soul...to see if everyone in the D.A. made it out of Hogsmeade all right.

To go see exactly who had been Kissed.

"I'm fine, okay? Just let me leave—I have to know—" Harry started, trying to stand up. "Where's Ginny? Are Ron and Hermione all right? Did the D.A.—"

"No, Harry—I know what you want, but you have to be cleared first," said Sirius, pushing Harry back down onto the bed firmly. "Just give her five minutes to check you out, all right? It's standard procedure. We don't want you passing out all of a sudden on your way to the loo."

Harry nodded. "Yeah...yeah, all right…"

He settled back down on the bed, but Sirius still sat on the edge of the bed, his guard up as if Harry would make a break for it at any second.

Trying to relieve the tension a bit, Harry said, "I saw you, Sirius. On the train, before the attack. You were there, weren't you? Picking off Death Eaters one by one, alerting the Order to where we were. Then I saw you again at Hogwarts. Thought I was going mad, really. Told Ginny I thought I was going to die, seeing the Grim and whatnot…"

Sirius chuckled. "That must have been before Dumbledore put that charm on my form."

"Charm? Is that why you were white in Hogsmeade? I thought you were a Patronus!" Harry sat up. He couldn't stop the grin still on his face. He had his godfather back.

"You can blame Dumbledore on that," said Sirius with a smile. "He didn't want anyone to know I was 'back from the dead', so to speak, but he didn't want to lock me up like before. So he performed some sort of charm that would change my fur every time I transformed automatically to white. Then he put another charm on me to make me appear...ghostlike. And it worked. I really looked like a Patronus, and it let me wander the streets of Hogsmeade and everywhere else disguised. None of the Death Eaters ever picked up on it. They still believe I'm dead. And Dumbledore is going to use that to his advantage."

The curtain flapped open, and in walked Moony. Harry felt a huge weight lifted that he didn't even know he had as he saw the Hogwarts' Dean. He hugged Moony just as he hugged Padfoot, amazed at seeing his father's two best friends, together again. Both of them amazingly alive and well.

"You knew?" Harry asked him. "You knew Padfoot wasn't dead?"

"I did," Moony nodded. "But only quite recently. Near the end of September. Gave Dumbledore a right earful about it afterwards, of course…I almost told you, Harry...when you were in my office the other week. You were so distraught, and it killed me to have to keep it secret from you. But Dumbledore forbade it."

Harry felt a pang of hurt at this. _Dumbledore didn't think I could be trusted? But I mastered Occlumency! I've fought battles for him!_

And yet, Harry started to realize something that often comes with growing up—that not everything was about him.

_Maybe it wasn't about whether I should know or not. Maybe it was about simply keeping it secret from Voldemort. And the less people who knew, the better. He didn't even tell Moony at first. Maybe Moony sniffed it out on his own. Maybe...maybe it's all right that I didn't know._

And Harry found that he was quite actually okay with it all. He had his godfather back, didn't he? Maybe that was enough.

Sirius reached over and pulled Remus Lupin in a tight hug. "Knew we couldn't keep it a secret from you for long. Nigh inseparable, we are. Can't keep women from each other, let alone secrets. Ought to get you a nice lady-friend like I've got with Letha, really."

The look on Moony's face was unbearable. Harry's thoughts immediately went to Hestia Jones, and his heart fisted tightly. If Moony was like this, it meant she still hadn't woken from her curse.

And it wasn't just her.

Grief sprung in his chest when he thought about everyone he knew and loved. It hadn't escaped his notice that Ginny wasn't here next to him. Neither was Ron, or Hermione, and they were always by his side…

He had to find out...he had to know...

"How..._is_...everyone?" Harry asked, dreading the answer, and hating himself for asking it.

The smiles fell from the faces around him, and Harry knew it was bad.

"Harry…" said Moony bracingly. "Bear in mind you've only been unconscious for about an hour. We still don't know quite a lot. They are still…" He stopped, voice choking, and Harry's suspicions worsened, "...they are still finding bodies."

Harry was out of his bed in an instant. Letha pulled her wand back just in time. He wrenched the hangings aside, and looked upon what Padfoot and Moony had been hiding from him.

"Harry—"

The room had never been crammed with this many people before. Dozens lay in beds, dozens more stood around. Aurors, Order members, family, students, friends.

Moony came to stand beside him. He followed Harry's gaze out of the hospital wing doors to the crowd out there. "It's a madhouse. We are still trying to find order in this chaos. There are people everywhere in the halls. Teachers are guarding the passageways and getting everyone sorted out. Villagers are crowding into the Great Hall. Hogwarts students are all finally being put to bed. Professor Sprout is overseeing the villagers into the Floo to go to their relatives' places. I even saw her ushering some to the Leaky Cauldron when they said they had nowhere else to go."

Harry saw Neville come stumbling in with an older woman, lowering her onto a bed—she was limping and breathing hard. Aletha Freeman broke away from her husband and daughter, and started taking care of her.

"What happened out there?" Harry asked, dismayed. "Why didn't anyone come sooner?"

Lupin hesitated. "Harry, nobody was alerted about the dementor attack—"

"_What? _But I sent a dozen Patronus messengers—"

"—all of which the dementors _consumed_ before they reached their destinations, Harry. They saw the Patronuses and devoured them. It was a good effort, but the messengers...are not strong enough to repel dementors by themselves. Not like fully-fledged shields can. Their very nature isn't to protect or defend, but to report—"

The "O" of Harry's mouth must have said it all. He cursed himself for being so stupid. Stupid, pathetic, and blind…

_Voldemort knew the Patronus Messenger was Dumbledore's main form of communication. He used it against him. He used it against all of us. Every time we sent out a messenger, it was intercepted by a dementor. We were feeding right into Voldemort's hands..._

"But what about George? What about—" Harry cast his brain around, trying to remember the events of the night. Hadn't he had a backup?

"Harry...George was attacked…we found him alone in an alley. We still don't know his condition..." Lupin said sorrowfully, then explained where they found him and what they guessed happened to him. Harry saw that Madam Pomfrey had him in the corner of the hospital wing, and was feeding him potion after potion. Harry felt sick to his stomach. _Not George..._

"What...what about the Dark Mark?" Harry croaked. "Who cast it? Is that how you knew about...about the attack?"

Moony nodded, answering, "Yes. It was the Dark Mark that alerted everyone, Harry. Those in the castle saw it, the Ministry was alerted, everything..._everyone_...was alerted of the danger...and it's all thanks to Hermione. She was the one who cast it, Ginny said. If she hadn't...I fear that all of you would be Kissed by now, Harry. There is no way the Aurors and the Order would have made it in time. There were anti-apparition wards around Hogsmeade, secrecy wards so nobody from the castle could see what was going on, the dementors picked off everyone trying to make it to the castle via the roads, the Honeydukes tunnel had even been blasted. It's a damn good thing nobody amongst the Death Eaters knew about the Hog's Head tunnel too, or _everyone_ would be...gone. The dementors would have gotten to you, to the D.A….they would have gotten past your shields...gone down the tunnel...fed off everyone inside of it…"

Lupin didn't say it, but Harry already knew what he was saying.

_It would have been a massacre._

It was the Dark Mark over Hogsmeade that did it for them. Not everything that Harry had been doing at all. What Harry had done definitely helped...it did give them some time after all…helped to round up the villagers and students to be able to escape in a unified location...but if it hadn't been for Hermione, that all would have been for naught, as the dementors would have ascended on them all anyway.

"What happened to everyone in the Hog's Head tunnel? Did they all make it to Hogwarts okay? Did McGonagall find them?" Harry asked hurriedly, praying for some good news.

"Yes, Harry. They made it safely into the Room of Requirement. I honestly didn't know about that tunnel, and I thought the Marauders knew everything—"

"Wait, what about Hermione? Did you _know_ about Hermione?" Harry said, then launched into the revelation about his best friend that he and Ron discovered. He ended his rant with a bunch of jumbled-up queries— "Did she kill anyone? Who? Who did she attack? Did you find the Death Eater behind this? Are they taking her to Azkaban?"

Moony let out a slip of a smile, but it quickly slid off his face. "Goodness, Harry, no. Of course there will be a trial in the future as we find out exactly what she did, and her parts in the events this night. But as she was being forced to comply and none of this was strictly her fault, I am sure she will do just fine. It is quite akin to the Imperius Curse...we just need to prove it. Besides...she didn't kill anyone at all."

Harry blinked. "She didn't?"

A rush of relief pulverized him so ferociously that he almost missed what Moony was saying. "...no, no, Professor McGonagall said Hermione found quite a few ways around the commands she was given. She didn't kill anyone, she stunned them instead, and even made it so they were out for only a few minutes. She was told not to tell anyone so instead she held the list of demands in her hand, hoping someone would spot it. She was told to kill Ron—"

"Wait, _what—"_

"—but Neville told us of the weasel he found with Ron's name on it. And Terry Boot told me that she actually asked him if he would say 'You believe that Ron is a weasel' to her...and he did," Moony finished. "Granted, Terry thought that was an odd request but just figured she was mad at Ron again."

"That's brilliant," said Harry, dazed at the near-miss on Ron's life. No wonder she was acting so odd and wooden during the party...

"But that isn't even the half of it…" Moony continued. "Minerva said that Hermione had been commanded to take down the teachers and Aurors she found, but there were dozens of them that Hermione appears to have gone out of her way to avoid. Her magical trace was all over the place, conveniently avoiding where most of the teachers and Aurors actually were. She was told to take down the prefects out on patrol, yet she didn't touch the ones that weren't. And what was more—as she left, she actually _strengthened_ the wards around the tunnels so only those of good intent are allowed in. Dumbledore was rather impressed with her enchantments; she placed them on all the tunnel openings going out. I suppose she was able to find that little bit of leeway in the curse. She was commanded not to tell or alert anyone, but her putting extra protections and enchantments on the wards does neither of those. She would have known this, of course—that the Headmaster is only alerted about breaks and negative changes in the wards, not them being strengthened."

Harry was floored. Relieved that Hermione hadn't gone on a rampage and killed anyone...mollified that she hadn't done anything that would send her to Azakaban...beyond allayed that she wasn't destroying anyone on blind obedience at all, but trying to save them—

"She's not the only one. Ron has saved dozens of people that were on the way to the castle taking the road. Aletha told me about how he helped to transport them to the Hog's Head. He saved countless lives…" Moony said. "All of your D.A. did, Harry. So many of the students, if not all of them, were casting the Patronus charm and saving others. The Kissed count would be far higher if it hadn't been for their efforts. They saved hundreds of lives in the village. You should be very proud, Harry."

He was. Yet even in the midst of his pride, Harry knew that all was not right. Hogsmeade had still been attacked, there had still been people Kissed before help showed up, and the hospital ward was still littered with bodies of the fallen. Hermione, Ron, and the D.A. had helped, true...but the attack was still utterly devastating.

There was a lot of crying around them. A lot of bodies with sheets draped over them. And then a group of teachers talking in the middle of the room walked out of the wing, and Harry finally saw them.

The Weasleys.

Horrified, Harry scanned their faces and the backs of their heads to see who was missing among them. They were sitting around two beds in the far corner of the wing, and Harry walked out of his curtains, trying to find his two best friends among them. _Ron and Hermione are probably in that crowd too. It must be bad if they're with Ron's family and not me…_

Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley were sitting beside a bed, but Harry could only see red hair splayed on the pillow behind the redheaded clan from his position across the wing.

"Moony?" Harry asked, voice broken. He had spotted the red hair on the bed across the room. "Who's..."

"I'm terribly sorry, Harry, Professor Dumbledore is calling me—"

Is it—is it—

_Ron?_

But Moony was gone, and Harry saw the Dean of Hogwarts stride out the hospital wing doors with Padfoot, following a ghostly phoenix, leaving Harry quite alone with the Weasleys. He craned his neck, searching for Ron and Ginny amidst the red-headed clan.

"Harry!"

Then to his relief, Ginny broke apart from her family and collided into him. He hugged her tightly, breathing in her warm scent and was surprised at the comfort flooding his every being that she was not the one in the hospital bed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, worried. "You—you still have all of your soul, right?"

She burrowed her face into his chest, sobbing. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you, thank you, thank you for saving my life! If it weren't for you, I'd—_I'd_—"

Hugging her tighter, Harry didn't want to think about what could have happened. All that mattered was that it didn't.

"Ginny, what happened?" he asked her.

"It's Ch-Charlie," she said, tears spilled out and she sobbed. "They found him. In an alley. Harry, he's be-be-been—"

Blinking, Harry did not comprehend what she was saying. Fearing the worst, Harry got up and went to the Charlie's bed.

He lay there with his eyes half-open, not seeing anyone around him.

Charlie had been Kissed.

Frozen, Harry couldn't stop staring at the redheaded brother. He thought there'd be more emotions running through him. Perhaps he was in shock though because he couldn't feel anything.

The Weasleys were a wreck.

There was a somber mood enveloping them all. Fred sat next to his twin with his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking, Ginny was still clinging to Harry's arm and sobbing, and Mr. Weasley was just trying to comfort his wife. Bill and Percy stood grimly, talking to each other in hushed whispers. Fleur Delacour had her arm around Mrs. Weasley. Krystal, the girl from the shop, was crying while sitting on George's bed, and Angelina Johnson's face was buried in her hands. Hagrid stood nearby, taking up three armless waiting chairs, dabbing at his eyes with a large, polka-dotted hanky.

And—probably the most surprisingly—Nymphadora Tonks sat on Charlie's bed, holding his hand tenderly.

At Harry's stare, Tonks offered a depressing shrug. "I woke up yesterday. The healers wanted me to stay down all day, but wh...when I heard about...about...Ch-Charlie...I couldn't stay away. Being awake...it doesn't matter. It could never matter now that he's been..._been…_"

But her sobs broke up the rest of her words, and Harry could only feel heartache at what she must be feeling. Merlin abroad, he couldn't even imagine the horrors of what both Tonks and Charlie had gone through. First that necklace curse, and now this…

"A...and...wh...what about…" Harry whispered.

When Harry did finally tear his eyes away from Charlie and look over at George, he wished he hadn't.

In the bed right next to Charlie's was where George lay. His face was as white as Charlie's and there was blood drenching the front of his bright green WWW shirt. A hooded robe that must have been his was hanging on the nearest coat stand, and the blood dripping from it echoed even amongst the sobs. The sound seeed to have gotten to Mrs. Weasley, and she uttered the scouring charm at the robe, freeing it from its bloodied mess.

"George was attacked by someone...we don't know who...we don't know how he is...we don't know how long he's going to...to…be…" Ginny's whispers broke down as she cried, her unspoken word resounding around them all.

Alive.

"He was on his way to tell everyone what was happening in Hogsmeade when...w-when he…" Fred said, his voice agonizingly quiet and devoid of any mirth or happiness.

The poor Weasley family had definitely gone through the ringer. All of them were crying from this double blow. Everyone, that is, except—

"Where's...where's Ron?" Harry asked, trepidation creeping all over him. There was _no way _that Ron wouldn't be with his family at this time of such devastating loss.

The sobbing around them intensified. Ginny's face was white when she answered in a burst of fresh, hot tears. "We...we can't f-f-find him, Harry! W-w-we can't find Ron _o-or _Hermione!"

* * *

Draco wandered the halls of Hogwarts, not seeing or hearing any of it. He followed the Aurors levitating his parents' bodies, covertly draped in two conjured sheets. They were going to the hospital wing.

As they neared the doors, McGonagall gasped. The Auror levitating his mother's body—Mackintosh something or other—told her what happened.

"...we found them on the ground. He was kneeling over their bodies...we didn't know what to do with them, but they are technically casualties…"

"No, no, that's quite all right. We have two extra beds we can put them on. Mr. Malfoy, my dear boy, I am so very sorry for your loss. It's a tragedy...tragedy…"

"So not Kissed then?" said a new voice. Madam Pomfrey.

"No, no, it appears they have been..._my goodness_…"

"It was the Killing Curse," someone said. "It was Lord Voldemort. He...he did it. He...murdered them."

All eyes turned to look at him. He realized he was the one who spoke.

"...he will need a shock potion…" this was Luna. When did she put her arm around him? "...he watched it all happen…"

Pomfrey was talking. "...yes, yes, poor dear...third cabinet on the left, purple vial, Meghan. And let's get some for these poor Prewett children as well..."

Turning from the pitiful eyes and—were some of them vindictive?—judging stares, Draco turned away.

He was nobody now.

* * *

Harry never felt worse.

Nor did he ever feel more alone.

Harry stood, shaking, and walked out of the hospital wing. He had to be away from it all. Away from the Kissed. Away from the dead. Away from the bereaved. The constant crying became muffled as soon as he closed the doors. Not really wanting to go anywhere, Harry just found an unperturbed corner of the dark, empty hallway. Mercifully, he was alone.

His best friends were missing. The only family he had. They could be tortured. They could be dead.

_Not Ron. Not Hermione. _Tears slid down his face unbidden, and he started hyper-ventilating at the thought of his two best friends—_his best friends_—at the hands of that hated monster. Sinking down to the floor in the shadows, Harry struggled to breathe, muffling his gasps with his hands. He couldn't fathom what horrors his two best friends in the world could possibly be facing right now. _How did I ever get separated from them? How could I have ever let them out of my sight? _

Cursing himself over and over again, Harry felt like this was all his fault.

_I was with Ron...why, why, why didn't I keep him with me? Why didn't I command Hermione to go straight back to the castle, before any of the dementors showed up? Or send Neville to go find the girls instead of Ron? _

_I_ knew _that Voldemort wanted Ron and Hermione. I _knew _that Voldemort had been trying to get to them numerous times already. At the train, the Death Eaters blew up the tracks and tried to pick them off out of the crowd. They hadn't been after me at all. Just Ron and Hermione. Then again and again, they tried to get the Slytherins to do the dirty deed, including Draco Malfoy. The Death Eater attacking Ron in Hogsmeade. The bloody dragon trying to kill Ron. Hermione's abduction by Dolohov. The Death Eater in the girls' dorm. The dementors in Hogsmeade. Lucius Malfoy, even, when he cornered the girls near the Shrieking Shack..._

_Over and over again, Ron and Hermione were put in danger. It shouldn't have mattered that Snape caught Dolohov. That Ron caught McLaggen. That Dumbledore caught those Slytherins. How could I have dropped my guard for even a second? How could we not have known that more were involved? _

The guilt was overwhelming. He had to get them back.

He had to.

Just then, Harry heard voices from the entrance of the hospital wing corridor where it teed with the second floor corridor.

It was Remus Lupin and Mad-Eye Moody.

They were talking in hushed tones, but Harry could only hear the faintest of snatches. Then, remembering almost a lifetime ago when he was at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' grand opening, Harry rifled through his pockets for his stash of merchandise and pulled out the Extendable Ears he'd bought.

Grateful to the Weasley twins yet again, Harry shoved one end in his ear and the other crept off down the hall and around the corner, hugging tight to the walls. Harry just hoped Moody's glass eye wouldn't spot it. He was far enough away that Moody shouldn't be able to see him too, even if he could see through meter-thick stone walls.

"...but I was hoping it wasn't true," Alastor Moody was saying. "Her parents are nice folks. Great, really, for the time I got to spend with them. Told me story after story about Hermione."

"Who replaced you and Dung as their bodyguards?" said Lupin, clearing his throat.

"Savage, I believe. Savage and Harper replaced us on Saturday. Thirteen years experience between them. They served as Hermione's and Ron's bodyguards for a time. The Grangers are in good hands," Moody answered, his mood gruff. "There's really a Dark curse on the girl, then?"

"Yes...the Angorian..." Lupin's depressed voice trailed off.

"Damn. The _Angorian? _The poor child will take that curse to her grave. It will be the death of her, won't it? They never last long, those who are cursed with it…she doesn't stand a chance…"

There was a frozen silence, and Harry felt the world drop out from under him. _It will be the death of her..._his mind kept repeating that phrase. But why? Were the other victims told to kill themselves? Was there something in the curse that people just couldn't live with? But the two older men didn't elaborate.

"Don't say that, Alastor," said Lupin, rather sharply. His voice was thick with emotion. "We'll find her and Ron Weasley before anything happens to them. Dumbledore will be sending out more search parties as soon as the current ones come back. Then he will find a way to lift that curse. We have to have hope."

Another silence, though this one was more brief. Their footsteps were walking farther away, though, and Harry felt a tug on the Extendable Ear as it came ot the end of its rope. Harry hurriedly uttered a charm to extend it even further and listened in once more.

"...it's gone. Just...gone. Out of all the enchantments surrounding the sword, that Death Eater was able to snatch it right off the mantle."

"So he was a Gryffindor heir then?" Mad-Eye's gruff voice was much louder than Lupin's smooth tones. "Of all the damn bastards…"

Lupin disagreed. "No...most likely that Death Eater wasn't an heir—but stole the blood of one instead."

"But how could he have gotten Dumbledore's blood?"

The footsteps stopped.

"Dumbledore?" said Lupin in surprise. "But...Dumbledore's not the Gryffindor heir. He knows who is, but he won't tell me. Just that it's a student. You-Know-Who is the heir of Slytherin, of course, and we have several possible clues on who the current heir of Ravenclaw is, but nobody has been able to find the diadem since it was stolen from the library tomb—"

Moody swore again.

"So then...who's the Hufflepuff heir?"

There was a long pause.

"It's Neville Longbottom."

Harry's jaw dropped open.

The two men walked out of reach of the Extendable Ear again, but Harry was too stunned to reinforce the charm, and the other end came back to him. Long after they left, Harry's thoughts were running wild.

_Dumbledore's not the heir of Gryffindor. A student is. Most likely a Gryffindor student. Maybe even me, but seriously what are the chances…_

_My chances are high though,_ he thought. _I did make the sword appear out of the Sorting Hat back in second year. I could be the heir of Gryffindor. That would be wicked cool, really...yeah...I could totally be the heir of Gryffindor._

_And Neville...the heir of Hufflepuff...that's just...well, everything just makes so much sense now! When he went with us in Hufflepuff's tomb, he was secretive...when that owl was attacking him and he had that package...and then there's what Dumbledore was telling Moony..._

Possibly Harry. Neville. Voldemort. Some random person. Most likely Harry. Neville. Voldemort. Some random person.

As he walked back into the hospital wing, Harry kept casting furtive looks of awe at Neville. He was torn between telling Neville he knew, and outright demanding if he where the Hufflepuff cup was. But the other Gryffindor was busy helping Meghan and Aletha Freeman, restocking the vials on the shelves and helping transport the Kissed people over to St. Mungo's. So Harry sat down on a chair by the ginormous Weasley family, and was left alone to his thoughts once more, waiting for the search parties to come back.

And then the Malfoys entered the wing.

Harry watched as the dead bodies of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy floated past him, followed by Draco Malfoy. He watched as the white face of his once-hated school nemesis stared, almost unseeing, at him. The reality of the situation—of this horrible, devastating loss they were all feeling—became too much, and tears sprung to his eyes.

Perturbed, Harry skirted another glance at Malfoy, who wasn't looking. To watch your own parents get murdered...Harry couldn't fathom how horrible that must be. It was one thing for Harry, who couldn't remember anything about when his parents were killed. But to be old enough to know them...to be there when it happened, unable to help them, and to watch the man your father called 'Master' do it himself…

Draco Malfoy glanced up at him, and Harry stared back.

Understanding passed through them both.

* * *

When Draco realized he was standing next to Potter, it was too late.

_Good Godric...anyone but him… _Draco thought.

But grey eyes met green. There was a look that passed between the Slytherin and the Gryffindor and, all of a sudden…

Everything changed between them.

It was a mark of how much they knew each other that Potter didn't say anything to him, didn't sneer or retort about how it served them right. Nor did he try to console Draco, didn't move aside to let him have his space even. The look in his eyes said it all.

And Draco knew in that instant what it felt like to be Harry Potter.

To be an orphan.

To be running scared all the time…

Afraid for your life…

A mass murderer after you.

The Dark Lord's mortal pronouncement echoed in Draco's brain. "_I will take him, and when I do, you will no longer be able to stop me."_

Voldemort was after Harry Potter no longer...he now wanted Draco.

Understanding passed between Draco and Potter in that simple glance they shared. It wasn't just pity in Potter's eyes, it was _empathy_.

And that was something that connected with Draco far more than he believed to be possible.

And, he found, he didn't really seem to mind it at all.

* * *

When Dumbledore arrived in the hospital wing around a half hour later, Harry knew that everything was going to be all right.

He stood with the Weasleys as Dumbledore, Lupin, Sirius, Moody, Kingsley, McGonagall, and several other Order members strode into the room. The hospital wing had dwindled down to much fewer people by this point. Draco Malfoy's parents were still in the corner, sheets draped over them, waiting to be taken to the morgue, and he was sitting desolately next to them. The D.A. members that had just been recuperating after having passed out all wanted to go to their common rooms to be with their friends and make sure everyone was all right. All the other villagers who had been Kissed were taken to St. Mungo's, besides Charlie. The Weasleys wanted him to stay with George, and George was far too weak to be moved.

Besides the fact that they couldn't just leave when Ron was...when Ron...

"Professor—sir—" Harry started, rushing over to him. "Sir, Voldemort was after Hermione and Ron, I have to go find them—_he took them_—"

But Dumbledore just waved him aside. "Wait, please, Harry."

More Order members came into the room, and Harry recognized them at once. Order search parties. Back from searching for Ron and Hermione. Fruitlessly. Terrifying horror gripped his stomach, and Harry approached Dumbledore again, eager for news. He wasn't the only one.

"Sir, have they been found—"

"Tell us—please—is Ron—"

"Dumbledore, Hermione would never—"

"Are the dementors gone? Have they fled?"

"How many people were Kissed—?"

"Now, now," said Dumbledore, raising his hands to quell their queries, face and voice very grave. "All in good time, please. To answer your questions, we have concluded our search in Hogsmeade's vicinity for any leftover dementors, and they have in fact, fled. I believe it was Lord Voldemort who called them back."

He took a deep breath, and the sorrow on his face said it all.

"As we understand it...there were seventeen people who were Kissed," he said, then paused as several people gasped. "Thirteen of them were villagers, including Charlie Weasley—there, there, Molly. The four students that we have lost are...I'm sorry to say...Zacharias Smith, a sixth-year Hufflepuff...Anthony Goldstein, a sixth-year Ravenclaw...Lavender Brown, a sixth-year Gryffindor...and Cho Chang, Ravenclaw, our resident Head Girl. Their...their bodies have been taken to St. Mungo's to be kept in their Dementor Division for hopes of a possible cure."

Grief poured over Harry like a bucket. Cho...not _Cho_…

And Lavender...poor Ron...

But Dumbledore had not yet concluded.

"The death count is quite a bit lower. We found three Aurors guards that were slain near the battlements. Then Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were also found deceased. As for our own Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, they have not yet been found. But we have every available Auror and Order member looking for them. We do not believe they have been Kissed—" Dumbledore's voice rose above Mrs. Weasley's sobbing, "—as they would have been found using a blood spell if that were the case. Judging by where they were last seen by Miss Susan Bones and Ginny Weasley, and thanks to our rather skilled DMLE investigators, we were able to deduce...that they have been taken by a Death Eater, on orders from Lord Voldemort."

There was an audible gasp.

Dumbledore wasn't done. "We believe they have been taken away from Hogsmeade by apparition or portkey, as their trail has gone cold. We have found no magical traces of any kind going out of the alleys they were in. They have been cloaked. I will be sending more Order members to search everywhere we believe they may have been taken. Our focus is now on the Death Eaters' safehouses that we have been able to infiltrate. I have a few spies within the Death Eater ranks that are trying to find out where Ron and Hermione were taken. The Auror Department has been called to check into other suspicious disturbances. But I dread to tell you that whatever happened to Ron and Hermione may be far worse than a Kiss. We have reason to believe that Voldemort has been after them for some time now. Why, we have no clue, other than the fact that they are very close to Harry. They are, by all accounts and purposes, family to him. To get to them is to get to him."

At once there was an outbreak of talk and inquiries, but they were all interrupted by such a high, tinkly voice that was so displaced it took them by surprise.

"The scary man took them."

The voice was small. The talking around Harry halted to a stop as they looked around, trying to find the one who had spoken.

A small girl slid off her bed and ran over to where Dumbledore was standing. She reached up and tugged on his long beard until he looked down his narrow nose at her.

"Mister. Mister. Mister. Mister. The scary man took them."

"The scary man, my dear?" Dumbledore grew very quiet, and knelt down beside little Hazel Prewett. "Darling, tell me. What is your name?"

Her tiny blonde curls fell down behind two pigtails on her head. The thumb was still in her mouth. She nary even took it out, but talked around it. "Hazy."

"We found her," explained a red-eyed Bill in a loud whisper when Dumbledore looked up in explanation. "Underneath poor Lavender. When we came to that alley...it looked like something terrible went down. Charlie was laying there, and Lavender wasn't far away. Rusty and Hazel were both underneath Lavender. It looked like she laid down on the children to hide them from the dementors. And since they were mostly unconscious...the dementors left them alone..."

"Remarkable," breathed Dumbledore. "What a brave young woman…"

Then, to little Hazel, Dumbledore said,"Who did the scary man take, Miss Hazel, darling?"

She thought about it. Then spoke, thumb in mouth, bright blue eyes wide. "The big boy. That looks like him," she said, pointing to Charlie. "He hurts him. Mummy says we don't hurts people. But he hurts him. He was _very_ naughty."

Mrs. Weasley started sobbing, her voice mingling with Ginny's. The little redheaded boy, Rusty, jumped down from the bed and ran to his sister, hugging her, as if protecting her from the pain in the room.

"Some of the blood in the area that Hermione was taken from came from George," said Auror Morwen. Harry recognized her as one of the Auror bodyguards tailing Hermione. She had tears in her eyes but blinked them away hastily. "But the blood spells we did showed that some blood came from...from Hermione as well. And next to Charlie Weasley there was Ron's blood as well. We believe this Death Eater specifically attacked the older Weasley boys in order to lure Ron and Hermione off the beaten path and into more secluded alleys. He took them, and left the others behind. Rusty and George were both unconscious by the time we got there...but perhaps Hazel remembered something?"

"Yes...yes, I should try…" Dumbledore muttered, then knelt down to the little girl's level. "Miss Hazel, darling, would you show me what you saw? Can I get your permission?"

A hesitant nod. Dumbledore's hands gently touched her head. "You will feel a slight tickle in your head? Do you like tickles?"

She grinned around her thumb, and Dumbledore closed his eyes. A minute passed, and everyone in the room waited quietly.

But a few seconds later, he stood up, weary. "I could not see who it was who took them...I'm sorry...the Death Eater was wearing a mask—"

The hospital wing doors slammed open yet again. To their astonishment, Neville Longbottom ran down the length of the room, face red in exhertion, until he reached Dumbledore.

"Professor! It's gone! It's been stolen! Somebody's taken it!" Neville shouted when he came to a stop at Professor Dumbledore's side.

For one befuddled moment, Harry had no idea what Neville was talking about. Then he remembered the memory of Dumbledore's he saw, and what Lupin had said afterward, and the conversation between Lupin and Moody, and then it clicked.

Voldemort had taken the Hufflepuff cup.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Hopefully this chapter answers some of your questions! Sorry it took an extra week to get here. It was actually twice as long and I was realizing just how long it was turning out to be when it surpassed 10k. Because of that and it taking too long, I just gave in and split it in half. The next chapter will take longer to write because of it. It's already written, but I do need to add some new scenes to accommodate more ideas I've been having. I am finally working part-time now, though so that leaves me more time to write! **

**Special shout-out to the reviewer Guest, your reviews made my day(s)! I got in a rut, but then those started flooding my inbox, and they helped me get out of my writer's block. The power of positive reviews makes posting chapters possible, people! (Try saying that ten times fast...)**


	44. The Honorary Heirs

**THE HONORARY HEIRS**

Voldemort had the Hufflepuff Chalice.

Voldemort had the Ravenclaw Diadem.

Voldemort had the Gryffindor Sword.

And Voldemort most likely had the Slytherin Locket.

Harry sunk down into a chair, any vestige of hope draining immediately from him. This was it. Voldemort was going to get the power from the Founders' Gifts, if he hadn't already. He was going to become all-powerful. He was going to destroy everyone and everything.

They didn't stand a chance.

The room quietened after Neville's outburst.

"How could he have known?" said Dumbledore in defeat, almost to himself.

But Harry already knew how Voldemort could have known. "Professor...when that Death Eater broke into the girls' dormitories on Monday, Hermione said he took her trunk. She said she was missing several books and things, but also that she had memorized and copied the Sorting Hat's riddle from the start-of-term. What if...what if that's what the Death Eater had been looking for? Clues on how to find out who the Heirs are, and where the gifts are? What if...what if that's been his goal all along?"

There were several whispers around him as the Order members all thought about how much more powerful Voldemort would be were he to get his nasty hands around the most powerful objects of their time. It only made sense, after all. Possess the most powerful objects of Great Britain, become the most powerful sorcerer in Great Britain.

"This isn't the first time I've thought these objects were what he's been after this whole time," said Dumbledore, looking weary. "But I had hoped he would never gain them all. No one has for centuries..."

Then Harry remembered something else. "Professor, the Sorting Hat also told me another riddle about the Founders and their Gifts when I was in your office the other month, sir. I copied it down and gave it to Hermione. I...I think the Death Eater stole that too. I don't remember it all, but we could ask the Hat, sir. It might give us a clue to where he took them."

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes locked onto Harry's own green ones. "Brilliant, Harry."

It didn't take them long to get to Dumbledore's office. Almost the entire Order accompanied them, including Ginny, Neville, Meghan, Luna, and Draco, who didn't look like like he knew what else to do. Mrs. Weasley and Fred stayed behind to tend to poor George and Charlie.

It didn't take them long to arrive at the stone gargoyles. "Kissing Kumquat," Dumbledore said the password, and they followed him up the stairs.

When they got there, Professor Dumbledore strode to the Sorting Hat, wand out. "Speak, old friend. I know a Death Eater broke into this room, and I know who it was—"

"_Who—?"_ Harry immediately blurted, but he was quickly silenced.

"—my question is simply what he was told by you when he forced you to respond?" Dumbledore asked. "Speak!"

The rip opened on the hat's brim, and it shivered before it spoke in its gravelly tones. "Made the room dark, he did, the nasty man. He had no face. He had no name. But I read his thoughts and I knew what he was capable of. And when he asked a question...I answered."

"And what was his question?" Dumbledore queried.

They waited with bated breath.

The Sorting Hat began to recite yet another song.

"_I've said my story, oped the book,_

_Unlocked the answering door._

_But I've not told of all I know—_

_A fourth there is, and more."_

But it was only a few lines in when Harry realized—

"This is what he told me that night. This is what I wrote down and the Death Eater stole—" he said aloud.

Mr. Weasley shushed him.

"_You've heard about the legend_

_Of the serpent's Heir and beast,_

_And still you have not questioned_

_If the other lines had ceased._

_But I speak now of these others,_

_Whose lines continue must,_

_As they pass down through the ages_

_To the just and the unjust._

_And the gifts that they were given_

_Must be handed down the line_

_To the honorary heirs until_

_They've come to thee and thine._

_The first gift found must stolen be,_

_The second shall inherit,_

_With borrowed hand the third is claimed,_

_The last—with given merit._

_So you face now a dilemma—_

_You must find before it's through_

_The four heirs and their four gifts_

_Before the battle's brought to you!"_

They all listened as the Sorting Hat finished the riddle. Harry expected the disgruntled hat to be snide or sarcastic afterwards, like it was with Harry. But apparently it held loads more respect for Dumbledore.

There wasn't much room to pace with the crowd around them, but pace Dumbledore did, muttering.

"The stolen gift…" said Sirius Black. "But that could mean the sword or the cup...unless one wasn't stolen at all but just borrowed...but how could a Death Eater just borrow something? I doubt they know the meaning of the phrase."

The stunned audience held no answers though, as they all thought about what this riddle could mean.

"The sword has always been the first gift," Dumbledore stated when he looked up. "It was the first one given to the Founders by Merlin, and it has stayed with the castle to this day. This one must be the stolen item. Now, we already know that the second gift is the Hufflepuff chalice. Neville Longbottom inherited it from his parents when their magic left them—"

"The Triquetra Effect," Harry whispered. He breathed a grateful thanks to Hermione. They all turned to him, so he elaborated. "When Neville's parents were...tortured...that severed the connection. The Magic, the Soul, and the Body. So even though they're still alive, they can't be the Honorary Heirs anymore. So the Hufflepuff gift went straight to Neville. The Triquetra Effect."

Dumbledore appraised him. "Well done, Harry. Miss Granger has taught you well."

"'_With borrowed hand, the third is claimed,_'" Lupin intoned. "That would be the Dark Lord claiming the Slytherin necklace. He never fully inherited it because it was supposed to go down a different line. However...since he is still an Heir, it was never outright stolen. Ergo...borrowed."

"Correct," Professor Dumbledore agreed. "Which brings us to this last… '_with given merit'_…"

McGonagall nodded sagely. "We've always known the least about Ravenclaw's Heir and gift. She had four daughters—three were witches and one was a Squib—and all of whom had many descendants that could have received the diadem."

Harry watched the headmaster turn once more to the Sorting Hat.

"There is more you wish to say," said Dumbledore. "Tell us what you told the Death Eater. Tell us the last of these clues you have bequeathed to him."

The Sorting Hat sat up straighter, and recited:

"_You've reasoned right, my answer_

_Has been hid inside his head._

_But I can tell you too if you_

_Desire to know instead._

_The Founders' lines must founded be_

_As I have said before._

_I give you clues that you might find_

_These heirs and powers four..._

_In hallowed place the chalice dwells_

_Beneath a shelt'ring lid,_

_Where magic left the unlearnt tomb_

_And where all else is hid._

_For diadem, greatness lies in_

_The mark of Cerne Abbas..._

_Unmatched, though, it will pass to she_

_Whose sign this woman has._

_While far away in darkened place_

_The locket does retreat._

_Beside a man without a face..._

_And fire without its heat._

_And last of these shall safest be,_

_If treasured you can keep_—

_But if it's made for battle wrought,_

_Beware the fear held deep._

_These four gifts have been dealt _

_And divided they shall be_

_In each corner of this school—_

_Or so it's been told to me._

_But as for our last heirs, my dear,_

_You'll find without a hassle..._

_For they have magic still untrained_

_And dwell in Hogwarts Castle!"_

There was a silence at this pronouncement.

Harry's mind was a whir of activity, and he could tell everyone else's was as well.

"The hallowed place that the chalice dwells...that means Helga Hufflepuff's tomb," said Neville, dejectedly. "That's where I put it. I knew it wouldn't be safe in the boys' dormitory. Especially not since what happened to Hermione in the girls' dorms. So I put it in the only other place I knew was safe in Hogwarts. The tomb of Hufflepuff's that nobody was supposed to know about. Fat load of good that did…"

"On the contrary, Neville," Dumbledore said kindly. "It held Voldemort at bay for as long as it needed to."

Harry wanted to ask how Neville even found out about Hufflepuff's "unlearnt tomb", but the conversation had already sped past that.

"Well, the Git Lord's got that one, so don't matter now. The Ravenclaw one though...the mark of Cerne Abbas…" Moody grunted. "Don't take a genius to know what the mark of that giant is."

There was a snicker or two around the room amidst the gloom. Harry knew the giant well. It was a ginormous carved hill figure near Dorset. It stood out amongst others because it was nude and had a very large...well…

"The Cerne Abbas giant's mark would be that he is..._ah_...male," said Mr. Weasley in an undertone to Ginny, who hadn't heard of it, apparently.

" '_Unmatched, though, it will pass to she whose sign this woman has'," _repeated Professor McGonagall.

"Well, that makes sense then," spoke Harry. "If the Ravenclaw Heir is female, she wouldn't have the mark of a man on her, she'd have the mark of a woman."

"Oh, no, Mr. Potter," McGonagall intervened. "You misunderstand, my dear. The Sorting Hat isn't simply telling us the Heir is female. It is testifying that upon her lies a certain mark. The Mark of the Feminine. If you were well-versed in Wiccan runes, or simply deigned to attend an Ancient Runes class, you would know that the symbol for male is, quite controversially, _this_—"

She demonstrated with her hands, fingers together, forming them into the shape of a tent, like the gable of a roof, or like an A without its cross.

"—whereas the mark of a woman is completely the opposite," said McGonagall, then joined the bottom of her palms together with the rest of her hands angling out away from each other, fingers together, in the shape of a V. "This riddle, you understand, is simply stating that the Ravenclaw Heir was marked in the shape of—"

Ginny audibly gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth. The look of shock on her face was startling and they all waited for her to speak.

"In the Department of Mysteries," she gasped. "Dolohov cast a curse. It was in the shape of a V and it left a scar on her chest! Does that mean that the Heir of Ravenclaw is—"

"_Hermione?"_ Harry breathed.

There was a silence following these words. This didn't make any sense. _This didn't make any sense! _Hermione was _Muggle-born!_

It was Dumbledore who broke it this time.

He mused, stroking his beard, "I had a suspicion that Hector Dagworth-Granger was descended from the line of Ravenclaw Squibs. There was no way to prove this, however, without digging up his grave, which I have put requests in to do repeatedly. But if this is true...this would make our own Miss Granger not a Muggle-born at all, but a descendant of one of the most powerful witches in history. If she is descended from the Ravenclaw Squibs, that would mean that the extremely faint magic in her veins would have no doubt been confused for a Muggle-born's own faintly singular magic. It is, after all, an exceptionally challenging endeavor, trying to distinguish between a true Muggle-born and someone magical being born in a Squib's line, particularly if this Squib lived hundreds of years ago. Hermione could very well be the Heir to Ravenclaw."

There was muttering coursing through the room. Harry was floored. Hermione...a Ravenclaw Heir? Descended from a long line of Squibs instead of simply Muggles? Squibs who lost and forgot not only their entire heritage and history, but were walking around, living, breathing, with so faint a pulse of magic in their veins that they couldn't even tap into it, nor did they even know about?

But realization made Harry's blood turn cold.

"Does Voldemort know?" Harry shot up, demanding. "Professor, _does Voldemort know?"_

Grave blue eyes met green. "Yes. I am afraid so, Harry."

There was an outbreak of talking, as everyone jumped in with their own suspicions and queries.

"—she was a Squib-born witch all this time—?"

"—but who could the line have descended from? Her mother or father—"

"—how could He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named have known about her if nobody else did—"

"—does this mean he knows who _all_ the Heirs are—?"

"Not necessarily," said Professor McGonagall, her voice—so well-versed in rising above noisy students—cut clear above the rest. They all turned to her. "This tells us not that Voldemort knows who they all are, but that he knows who at least one of the Heirs is. He might not know all of them. We can't assume that he knows for sure whether someone is an Heir just because he attacks them. The methods on the Hogsmeade attack sounded like blind shooting to me. He didn't send the dementors to one person, he sent them to the whole village. Which means that maybe he only knew where the Heirs were _located_...not who the Heirs are."

"Headmaster," said Remus Lupin gravely. "You must tell them. Because if Hermione is the Heir to Ravenclaw, then that must mean that…"

Professor Dumbledore nodded as they all turned to him. "Yes. I'm afraid that is right."

The two shared a look of understanding.

"What?" Harry broke in. "This means what?"

Dumbledore didn't say anything. Mr. Weasley stepped forward, putting a hand on the elder wizard's shoulder. "What aren't you telling us, sir?"

"I was never positive about this, you must understand, Arthur. I had my suspicions, but could never prove or act on them until now. Now...that it is too late," Dumbledore said. "I have suspected for quite some time now that your very own family is descended from one of the oldest wizarding families in Great Britain. The incident with your son being hunted by Voldemort has cemented that. And now that Voldemort has taken not just Hermione, but Ron as well…"

Harry's jaw dropped.

"This means that he has taken the Heir of Ravenclaw…" Albus Dumbledore finished, "_And_ the Heir of Gryffindor."

* * *

Harry felt completely overwhelmed. This was a lot of information to digest in thirty minutes.

_Ron...the Heir of Gryffindor? _

It made sense...at least, in a way that Hermione's lineage hadn't. The Weasleys were part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight—the original line of pureblood wizards in Great Britain. And they were just so..._noble. _Respectable. Honorable.

Of _course _the Weasleys were the Heirs of Gryffindor.

Harry leaned against the window in his shock as the others talked amongst themselves.

His best friends were the Heirs. Not him at all. That's why Voldemort wasn't interested in him anymore. What was a boy with no special magic...compared to three fellow Heirs to the Founders? With the Founders' Gifts paired up with theirs and the Triquetra Effect in place, that would give them powers beyond compare!

_Of course he would have been after them. He would have stopped at nothing to get them, once he found out who it was he was after. But why not Neville as much as Ron and Hermione?_

But he already knew the answer to that.

_Perhaps...perhaps he didn't even know about Neville. At least...not till recently. Like McGonagall said, maybe he only knew the Hufflepuff Heir was at Hogwarts...not necessarily who it was…_

_And maybe he didn't even know about Ron and Hermione. Maybe he just had suspicions. Maybe he just knew about the family they were in. And figured that it made the most sense for the Weasley Heir to be Ron because he is my friend, and the same for Hermione...just like how he just guessed that it was me that was supposed to be the boy in the prophecy instead of Neville. Because he figured I was the one most like him. I was half-blood like him. His choice _made _me the Boy Who Lived. _

_Maybe his choice _made _Ron and Hermione become the Honorary Heirs._

But the talk around him wasn't done yet.

"Sir...sir, we found something else," a newcomer said, moving farther into the room. He was an Auror, judging by the robes, though he didn't look familiar.

"Have they been found?" Dumbledore said sharply. The room at once grew quiet.

"No, sir. I'm terribly sorry, sir. You know how there was...there was remnants of black scorch marks embedded in a wall where we found Charlie Weasley? There was a sword stained black sticking out of the wall in the midst of it. Our evidence shows that the sword had stabbed a dementor!"

There were gasps around Harry.

"A _dementor—?"_

"But no sword could do that—"

"Unless it wasn't an ordinary sword—"

"That was Ron's sword. He had it all night. It was part of his costume—"

"Oh, please, no costume could have done _that—_dementors cannot be killed—!"

"Unless...unless it was the Sword of Gryffindor…" Professor Dumbledore mused.

The Auror wasn't finished. "But that's not all, sir! The sword simply _vanished!_ Right as we were staring at it!"

More mutterings coursed through the office, until it was broken by Mad-Eye's gruff, vociferous voice.

"I thought it was stolen from your office, Albus? If young Ronald Weasley had it all night, then how can it be in two places at once?"

Dumbledore walked around the cramped office, trying to figure out the puzzle. "The answer is quite simple. I knew this, that the Sword of Gryffindor's power is that it takes in that which makes it stronger. Sometime in the thousand years it's been around, the Sword was infused with a duplication potion. It can duplicate itself. The copy it leaves behind is corporeal, has the same magic, and certainly looks the same...but it is simply that: a copy. I do believe the Sword of Gryffindor sensed the danger Ron Weasley was in, and went to his aid, leaving behind its copy safe on the mantel...until the Death Eater took it."

"But how did it sense Ron? How did it know he was in trouble?" said Harry. "Is that like what it did to me in my second year when I faced the Basilisk?"

There was a bit of murmuring at his words.

"Yes, Harry...yes. Quite like that. I told you then that the Sword will only go to a true Gryffindor when called. The Heir of Gryffindor is obviously a very worthy young man indeed."

Stunned, Harry leaned against the wall.

_Ron had the Sword of Gryffindor all night?_ Harry realized. _Wow, I never even thought that the sword Ron had been holding at the party was the thousand-year-old Sword of Gryffindor. I just thought it was a party-favor from his Maskmallow. I never even thought to look closer at the blade or the hilt…_

_I never was the Heir of Gryffindor. It was Ron all along._

He stared out the window of Dumbledore's office, not really seeing the landscape, worried out of his mind about Ron and Hermione.

Out of all the people in the world for Voldemort to take...out of everyone Harry loved the most…

They were the most important to him.

_Not Ron….not Hermione…._

He felt the tears stinging his eyes. The fear choking him was too much. He couldn't live if anything happened to his best friends. They were _everything _to him. They were his…

_Family._

What did Voldemort even want the Heirs for? To kill them? To take away their magic? Was it just to steal the Founders' Gifts?

_What the hell does Voldemort want my best friends for?_

And, with a start, he realized that Voldemort must have known for a while now. Before the Sorting Hat's riddles. All those thwarted attempts on their lives...all those times that they all thought Voldemort wanted them just so he could get to Harry…

_He didn't want me at all. _

_Just them._

_It's always been about capturing the Founders' Heirs. It's always been about attaining their Gifts, and their powers._

_It's always been about being more powerful._

_And he's going to kill them to become that._

The grief he was feeling was too strong.

An arm came around his shoulders, and Harry buried his face into Sirius's shoulder.

Behind them, Dumbledore was dealing out orders. They had to find Ron and Hermione. _They had to…_

Before it was too late.

Dimly, he was aware of the Head of the Aurors rushing in. Gawain Robards. Of his saying more bodies were found. Two of them. Fallows. Williamson.

Ron and Hermione's bodyguards.

"Mutilated, Dumbledore. About a mile east of here. Near the train station and the apparition point. They were found without…" Robards looked around at them, uneasily. He leaned forward and murmured the rest of his sentence.

McGonagall gasped audibly.

Order members erupted in horrified whispers.

Ginny grabbed the nearest rubbish bin and heaved into it.

Harry slowly slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, stunned.

The bastard that did that to those guards had his best friends.

He was in hell.

"—we need every available witch or wizard possible searching for them," Dumbledore was telling everyone loudly. "Because our anti-apparition wards have been disturbed, we believe them to have disapparated. No portkeys have disturbed the magic in the air around Hogsmeade. The Floo Network has not been accessed in Hogsmeade so we know the Death Eaters did not escape that way. Hogwarts' wards have not been disturbed, so we know that no evil has been trying to get into the castle. The Auror bodies that were found give us a clue as to where they were taken on foot. They were most likely being led east through the woods to the train station, presumably to a point of apparition outside of the wards we set. We are continuing to work on expanding the call-home spells to bring them back safely to us, as well as dozens of others wards, spells, enchantments, and blood-locators. But the enemy is wise and has cloaked them beyond our comprehensions. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of places the Death Eaters could have taken them to. We are focusing on any and every point of reference we have received from our spies. We are doing _everything we can_ until they are found."

This alone gave Harry hope. With everyone in the Order (Harry didn't even know dozens of people in the room—when did Dumbledore find the time to hire new recruits?) looking for them, then all was not lost.

There was still hope.

The others left on their individual missions given them by Dumbledore. Harry noticed for the first time that he hadn't seen Snape at all since the attack. Probably already with Voldemort to see if he had them already.

Harry vaguely heard Dumbledore telling Sirius to go with Hagrid before the comforting arm around his shoulders left with a sympathetic glance towards him.

"Harry? Harry...I want you, Ginny, and Neville to go back to the Gryffindor dorms. Luna too. Do not think for one moment that you are safe. There is a chance that Voldemort will not be happy with Ron and Hermione alone. He still may be trying to take Neville. Even Ginny is no longer safe, as she is a secondary Heir to the Gryffindor line, by virtue of being a Weasley. Take them to safety. Draco and Meghan as well. They are not safe in the Slytherin dorms anymore. The other Gryffindors should be asleep and not likely to be disturbed by non-Gryffindors being in their tower," Professor Dumbledore said. "Professor Lupin will escort you."

Harry nodded mutely, not thinking.

Dimly, he hardly registered following Ginny, Neville, and Meghan back to Gryffindor Tower. Draco Malfoy trailing behind them in silence, with Luna tentatively beside him. When they got to the portrait hole, the hallway was lined with suits of armor, all saluting them as they walked through. In awe, they passed the enchanted knights, who were ready to guard and protect them from any evil intruder.

Moony left them at the Fat Lady's portrait with a comforting hug and a kind glance. "Don't worry," Moony said, gripping Harry's shoulders. "_We will find them._ There's hope yet."

"Bring them back," Harry whispered, the words choking in his throat.

Harry couldn't breathe. He stared into Moony's worried eyes before the man, who was like a father to him, hurried off to help in the search for Ron and Hermione.

For a second, they stood there. Then, silently, Neville led the way as they crept through to the common room, where dozens of boys and girls slept in disarrayed chaos around the room. Harry didn't blame them. He didn't want to sleep alone tonight either.

The six of them climbed the staircase slowly up to the sixth-year boys' dorm. It was empty when he opened the door. Seamus and Dean must be downstairs in the mess of human limbs.

Harry sank down onto his bed and Draco Malfoy sat woodenly on Seamus' bed. The oddity of having a Slytherin in his room, Ferret Malfoy no less, was somehow lost in the situation. Girls in the room, least of all his girlfriend, was also lost on him. Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin alike sat on the beds, very stunned and shocked at the situation they were now in.

Harry barely heard Ginny lay down on Ron's pillow and start sobbing, her tears not yet fully spent. He thought to comfort her like Neville was trying to do, but he just couldn't...couldn't _think_…

He was in shock.

_They're gone. _

_Ron and Hermione are gone._

_And it's all my fault._

He had to do something. He had to find them. He had to save them. Above everything else, _he had to stop Voldemort_.

"We have to _do_ something!" Ginny suddenly gasped through her tears. "We can't just leave them to die!"

Neville's heart was clearly torn as he looked over at Harry, his eyes shiny. "Ron said you were learning Legilimency, can't you...can't you..._find_ Ron's mind or something and see where they are?"

Harry's heart sunk even further. "Neville...it doesn't quite work like that—"

"JUST DO IT!" Neville shouted, standing. "YOU'RE BLOODY HARRY POTTER! YOU HAVE AN INVISIBILITY CLOAK! YOU'RE A PARSELMOUTH! YOU'VE GONE UP AGAINST YOU-KNOW-WHO _SIX TIMES _ALREADY! YOU CAN TALK TO HIM IN YOUR FREAKING SKULL! YOU SAVED AN ENTIRE VILLAGE FROM DEMENTORS! AND NOW HE'S GOT YOUR TWO BEST FRIENDS?! DON'T YOU TELL ME '_IT DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT'! _YOU BLOODY _MAKE_ IT WORK!"

Harry was stunned into silence. Never before in his entire life had he ever heard Neville shout like that..._or _swear…

He wasn't the only one. Meghan and Luna were staring at Neville, who had since turned red-faced and sunk back onto the mattress, eyes dry and bloodshot and looking a bit of a mess.

But even though Neville brought up a good point, there was no way Harry could go through with it. If he'd only practiced Legilimency more, there might be a chance. But with everything that had gone on the past week, he'd clearly forgotten to practice. And even then, an advanced Legilimens would have a tough time trying to find someone they'd never mind-read before without eye contact. Eye contact, after all, was the key to everything.

Harry tried to explain, but they just sounded like weak excuses to his ears. "I don't...I don't have their eye contact, Neville. It doesn't work without looking into someone's eyes. I can't find their minds without it. It's...it's useless…"

The hopelessness in the faces surrounding him hit him worse than dementors.

_There has to be a way! _He thought desperately. _There _has _to be a way!_

"Dobby!" he shouted.

A crack sounded in the room, and Dobby the House-Elf appeared in the room. "Yes, Master Harry, sir? You is wanting Dobby?"

Relieved, Harry sunk down to the house-elf's level. The others looked intrigued, even Malfoy who looked completely out of place in the warm, inviting dorm room with his all-black clothes was staring at his former-elf with curiosity.

"Yes! I need you to find Ron and Hermione! As fast as you can and tell me right where they are, all right?"

"Yes, sir!" said Dobby, and disappeared with a _pop!_

But Harry's relief and trust in the creature was dashed when Dobby reappeared again mere seconds later with downcast eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't find them. They's is warded, sir, because they is not wanting to be found. House-elves musn't go where they isn't being allowed! No sir!" said Dobby in his squeaky voice, then left again.

Harry sunk onto the bed, depressed once more.

"Harry, what about—what about Crookshanks' tracking collar? D'you reckon Hermione might have it on like last time—?" Ginny asked.

Harry's eyes widened. "There's only one way to find out."

Ginny ran from the room then, and they waited for her in those few precious moments for her to come running back with the tablet Hermione showed them forever ago—

But her footsteps were slow and heavy as she entered the room again, and in her hands she held both the tracker and the tablet.

They had no way of tracking Hermione now.

"No..._no..._I won't give up!" Harry said. He went over the dozens of spells in his mind that might help them now. Over and over, he cast each of them, more than a dozen times. He tried sending them a Patronus (which just vanished into thin air), he tried summoning them, he tried the Point Me spell using their names and belongings, the tracking charm, the trace charm, the revealing charm…

Something dark was blocking him from finding them.

Ron's and Hermione's words from just days ago reverberated around his brain.

"_Professor, I still don't understand," Ron finally blurted. "She was missing for hours! Why couldn't anybody find her? We used our Patronuses, we couldn't find her on the Marauders' Map, we cast spells to take us to her, to bring her to us, even… the Aurors used instruments I'd never even seen before! Why didn't any of them work?"_

_It was Hermione who answered this time. "It's because when Dolohov set up the blood barrier, he made me Unplottable, Ron. It uses different techniques than an Untraceable, which has been banned on Hogwarts grounds. He must have, though I don't remember any of it, maybe I was knocked out the whole time, but that's the only logical explanation. By making a person Unplottable...although it is extremely unheard of...you are in essence making them virtually unfindable…"_

And Harry knew that it was useless. There was no way he would ever be able to find them.

Not until they were dead.

His shaking hands dropped his wand.

The others must have guessed what he was thinking. Known that every spell he tried was useless. Known he was giving up.

From Ron's bed, a tired Ginny spoke through her tears.

"Please, Harry..._please_ just try. They've got my brother and my best friend! _Please_, Harry, please_, please,_ just help us find them and bring them back!" Ginny collapsed onto the bed again, her body shaking. "I just can't...I can't lose Ron too. I lost Ch-Charlie. W-w-we might lose _George_. I can't lose Ron a-and Hermione too. She's my best friend! He's...he's my _brother_!"

Lost, Harry stared at her. If Ron and Hermione never came back…

She had just as much to lose as he did.

Neville's face was hidden once more in his hands. Meghan watched him, concerned, and Luna appeared very distressed from the mood in the room. Draco still looked like he was in shock, Neville's outburst having no apparent effect on him.

Walking to the window, Harry stared out and concentrated on his connection to Voldemort. He closed his eyes, trying to find him through the barriers in his mind. That nasty, foul smell at the back of his mind—the darkness leaking through like poison—

And then he found it. But as soon as he tried to push the link marginally open, it slammed shut again, barring the door...locking him out.

Harry opened his eyes in shock. _What the hell…?_

Voldemort was locking _him _out?

Emotions flared within him, and Harry couldn't hold them back. _The only reason Voldemort wouldn't want me in is because he doesn't want to risk me finding out where he is keeping Ron and Hermione. Or what he's doing to them._

Yet he didn't know if this was good news...or bad.

_No...no! I can't give up! I have to keep trying!_

Exhausted beyond measure, Harry tried one more last-ditch attempt at Legilimency. If he could do it with Voldemort, logic stands to reason, he could do it with them too.

He began trying in vain to find Ron or Hermione, both with his eyes and with his mind. Nothing but darkness stared out at him, however. The few wandlights and sparks could be seen in the distance from the search parties, mostly in the Hogsmeade area, where his window faced towards.

_Come on….come on, Ron...where are you…_

He concentrated on the memory he had of sitting with Hermione in the library one day, talking to her about auras.

"_I wonder what my aura would be like," _Harry had said then. "_Or Ron's."_

"_Ron's smells a bit like pumpkin juice," _Hermione'd said with a smile, her voice swirling around Harry's memory. He had stared at her then, and the smile on her face brightened on her blushing face. "_His aura is filled with warm reds and oranges. It's like the stickiness of juice but not too sweet, with just a hint of organized chaos, like on a battlefield, or like a game of chess and—oh, shut it, Harry! Stop making fun!"_

But Harry's foolish snickering at her stopped her from telling him more about Ron's aura, and Harry was left to guess the rest on his own. _His eyes are blue, and...maybe...something about rats or weasels in there..._

His memories pulled up the image of Ron in his head—The pumpkin-y smell that Hermione told him about—Ron drinking pumpkin juice—Ron at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with his brothers—Ron dancing with Hermione at the Halloween Ball—Ron snoring in bed, one leg off the side—Ron grinning at him—Ron shouting at him—Ron _looking_ at him—

"_Legilimens!"_

And then the world turned inside out.


	45. The Messenger's Mission

**THE MESSENGER'S MISSION**

Suddenly, Harry wasn't in his body at all.

The window before him melted away.

The Gryffindor tower was gone.

He didn't know where he was.

All he sensed was darkness around him.

Darkness and pain.

**R...Ron? **He called out tentatively in the blackness.

Being out of his own body was surreal. He had no sense of self. No eyes, no ears, no—

**...Harry...Harry...is Harry okay? Where's Harry?**

Harry was ecstatic as soon as he felt Ron's presence. **Ron! Ron! Are you here? Are you okay? Where are you?**

But Ron didn't appear to know that Harry was there. He kept muttering in his mind, and Harry could tell that Ron wasn't fully conscious, like he was just waking up.

Frantic, Harry pushed further into Ron's mind. He wasn't seeing Ron's memories like Snape and Dumbledore had seen in his own mind. Just darkness. But there was a lot of pain. Ron's mind was covered with it, like red-hot fractures cracking in the walls, that kept drifting in and out. But true to form, Ron kept pushing it to the back of his mind in waves, not wanting to wake up, not daring to deal with it.

But Harry desperately needed him to.

**Ron, I'm here. It's me, Harry. I'm in your mind. I'm using Legilimency. But I need to know where you are! It's important, Ron, please wake up!**

Annoyance flashed across Ron's mind, pinching Harry. Waves of drowsiness succumbed him as Ron pushed him further down, not wanting to deal with waking up and the pain associated with it.

**Shut up, Harry...just...just go to breakfast without me and...and...let me sleep…**

Confusion reigned paramount.

Never before had Harry been so frustrated with Ron's ability to sleep through anything and everything. A herd of erumpents couldn't wake him up and shove him out of bed. How the hell was Harry supposed to wake Ron up from his subconscious to find out where he was?

And then Ron's muttering went from Harry to Hermione, and Harry found the answer to his problem.

**Ron, Hermione is in danger.**

That did it. Ron's eyes snapped open, and a flood of both consciousness and information flooded Harry.

Ron was in an extremely dimly lit place. But even in the faint light, the first thing Harry saw through Ron's eyes was Ron's chest. His shirt clung to him, matted with blood, and horror filled Harry at the sight. Where the blood was all stemming from, he couldn't deduce other than the fact that it looked like it was coming out of Ron's entire chest. Lines of blood were falling down Ron's pants and his arms that were undoubtedly fixed behind his body.

Disjointed, Ron lift his head up further, and Harry's view of the surroundings drifted into focus. Harry couldn't see much except for the area ten feet directly before Ron. There was stone...and a lot of it...with three columns rising up from the ground—one to the left of them, one to the right, and one directly in front of him. A rustling of chains and lack of arms made them both realize that Ron was chained to the fourth column. And there, tied to one, a slumped figure with blood soaking her dress was—

"_Hermione!"_

Ron and Harry both lurched to go to her—Ron forgetting his body was chained, and Harry forgetting he didn't have a body—

She was chained to the pillar in the same stance that Ron was, her arms magically chained behind her. Her eyes kept opening and closing, the same as Ron's, and Harry could tell it was taking them all they had just to stay awake.

Fear whined within him. He had to be fast.

**Ron. Ron, please, I have to know where you are. Can you see anything that would tell you? Do you remember anything about the journey there? **_**Ron?**_

A foggy voice surfaced in Ron's mind as he thought. **Where...where...what?**

In vain, Harry looked through Ron's vision trying to find something—_anything—_

A slight breeze ruffled Ron's hair, and Harry zeroed in on it. They were outside. At least that was something. But everywhere was so dark—there must be loads of clouds because Harry couldn't see a moon—and the numerous forested trees around them disguised any hope of seeing around in the vicinity—

And then Ron's head slumped down and his eyes closed, and Harry mentally swore. **Ron, mate, stay awake, please please stay awake, I have to find out where you are—**

Ron's eyes slowly peered open, but Harry just saw the stone ground once more.

**No...I don't...I don't know, Harry...where…**

Growing intensely worried at Ron's state of mind, his grogginess, his confusion, Harry could tell the pain was profound; it kept flooding into Ron's mind. And even though Harry was only a visitor, the more Harry stayed in Ron's head, the more he felt sick from witnessing what was happening to them.

Ron's eyes closed once more, then opened again, and the stone ground beneath him kept sticking out to Harry like he'd seen it before...he'd seen...it…

Before.

On a marble gazebo.

**Ron! **_**Ron!**_ **You're in the cemetery! You're in the cemetery! Ron, you're still at Hogwarts! Ron—!**

But Harry's joy at this was doused as Ron slid into unconsciousness once more, the blood loss too much for him. Blackness surrounded him once more, for the last time.

**Don't worry, Ron. We're coming. We're going to send help. **_**We're coming.**_

Silence and emptiness greeted his words, but Harry didn't have a moment to spare. He slid out of Ron's mind and back into his own body in the Gryffindor Tower once more.

_We're coming, Ron._

* * *

Ginny stared at Harry, the glazed vacant look on his face rather unnerving. But after several minutes, he finally blinked, face filled with shock, worry. Ginny hugged him, relieved that he was all right.

"I know where they are!" he breathed.

"_What?"_ Ginny gasped.

At once they snapped to attention as Harry flew across the room, jumping on his bed in his haste to go around the others standing in the middle of the dorm.

"Stay here!" Harry called out to them.

He ran out of the room, but not before Ginny scoffed and said "Oh, like hell!", thundering after him with Neville, Luna, and Meghan at her heels. Malfoy alone was still brooding on the bed, but they took no note of him as they followed Harry out of the dorm.

The five of them tore down into the common room and out the portrait hole. The enchanted knights with their empty suits of armor stood to attention once more as the students took off through them, but did not hinder them as they passed.

_They must be spelled to take down evil, not just anyone that passes, _Ginny thought distractedly as she ran.

Down they ran through dark corridors that were by now completely empty. All the students were in their beds, all the teachers were either out looking for Ron and Hermione, taking care of the students, or in beds themselves. It was after midnight, after all. More enchanted suits of armor littered the hallways and main rooms, lining the halls, ready to attack. What Aurors were left at Hogwarts were guarding the passageways leading out of the Hogwarts grounds.

"I don't understand—" Ginny said as she tried to keep up with him. "Where are they?"

"The Hogwarts Cemetery!" Harry said as he sprinted down more stairs.

"Wait, _what?" _Ginny was floored. "Isn't everyone looking for Ron and Hermione basically everywhere else _except_ for Hogwarts?"

"Maybe—maybe that's why the Death Eater took them there," Harry gasped as they ran. "But at least we have a fighting chance now—"

They practically skidded to a stop in front of the Cliodna statue. "_Grammarye!"_ Harry said.

It opened and they rushed inside.

"But how...how did Jones open the Mirror of Erised…?" said Harry, moving straight towards a ginormous mirror on the wall that Ginny had never seen before. She was more interested in the Quidditch model on the other side of the room, but followed Harry to the elaborate mirror as it stood taller than them both.

He stood in front of it for one long minute.

"Er...Harry?" said Ginny, watching him. "I know you're an extremely handsome boy and all but...we really should be trying to find them, not admiring ourselves. You think?"

Harry sighed, frustrated. "I thought...I thought it might tell me how to open it. But no. Nothing."

He cast several spells, trying everything he could think of to make it open while Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Meghan watched, perplexed.

It wouldn't open.

Harry swore, kicking the wall. "We almost have them! If I could just open the damn thing, I can find Hermione and Ron before it's too late—!"

Tense frustration gripped the room.

"Harry, this is probably a good thing," said Neville, unsure. "We can't just run into danger like this. We have to tell someone. We have to let the Headmaster know so he can go and get them. We were _supposed_ to stay in the tower—"

"Well I didn't ask you to come!" Harry shouted, fed up. "I specifically remember telling you to stay there! Besides, did you _see _anyone else in the castle? Everyone else is out looking for them! Why else do you think they told those bloody suits of armor to babysit us? _There's no one here!_"

But Neville wasn't one to be cowed so easily. "Then send Dumbledore a bloody owl, Harry! Or cast a Patronus for reinforcements. There aren't any dementors anymore so they should make it to their destinations. We can't do this by ourselves!"

Beyond frustrated with the bloody Hufflepuff Heir, Harry kicked a chair in anger. "We're wasting time, Neville! Not everyone can be an effing Heir like you and remain on their high horse unscathed! Voldemort's been after Ron and Hermione since the beginning! Death Eaters have them chained up! They were completely covered in _blood_! I have to save them _now!"_

Ginny's gasp muffled Neville's footsteps as he walked closer to Harry.

"Then I won't stop you from going, Harry," said Neville. "But I'm going to send for help first. Or we have no chance of saving them."

And then he walked out of the room.

"I'll go help him," Meghan whispered, and slipped out as well.

Angry, Harry turned towards the Mirror of Erised once more and started hurling curses at it. The wretchedness in the room rose in a crescendo at his actions, as the two girls watched him break down. It did no good, however, and after several minutes of this, he finally brought his wand arm down and just stared.

Ginny edged closer to her boyfriend, hesitantly. Desperation to grow closer to him and help him calm down surpassed her own fear and dread.

"Wh...what about getting there a different way?" Ginny asked tentatively. "We could go out the door to the owlery and...and…"

"It's no use…" Harry said woodenly. "You weren't there, Ginny. It was on a cliff. There were rocks everywhere. The tunnel went through the castle and halfway up the mountain. I don't think it's possible to get there without it. Not without it taking hours of rock-climbing. We don't _have _that kind of time!"

"But—but we could get brooms or, or—"

"And how the _hell _are we supposed to bring Ron and Hermione back on brooms when they are unconscious?" Harry shouted. He kicked a squishy armchair, frustrated with Ginny now, and she flinched.

"Well, you used Legilimency to talk to Ron! Can't you… can't you just use it to talk to Dumbledore or Lupin and tell them where they are so they can go get them?" Luna said, casting around for any solution to their problem.

"I _can't_, Luna. I _tried_," Harry said. "The only reason I was able to talk to Ron in the first place is because Hermione told me what his aura looks like. I don't know anything about Dumbledore's or Lupin's. I doubt I could even find hers."

Alone, Harry stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. He stared at his reflection dejectedly. He was defeated, but Ginny saw strength. He looked depressed, but Ginny saw hope. He seemed disheartened, but Ginny saw courage. She went towards him now and engulfed him in a hug, knowing how much he needed the comfort right now.

"What do you see, Harry?" she whispered.

"Ron," said Harry, voice pained. "Standing beside me. And Hermione. That's all I see now. Not my mum...or my dad...or my grandparents...just..._my friends_. The friends I've had all along and took for granted. The friends who've been there for me this whole time. I can't live without them."

But the melancholy surrounding them wasn't allowed to stay for long. Meghan came in just then and told them about the Patronuses Neville sent out. "We couldn't find any of the teachers, but I did see Nearly Headless Nick and told him to get help. I just...hope that's enough. Neville went to Dumbledore's office to try and find him."

Harry sighed, and said, "Thank you, Meghan."

He turned back to the Mirror and aimed spell after spell at it. Ginny, Luna, and Meghan soon came to join him.

"Potter, I still don't understand. Why would the Death Eaters take them to the Hogwarts cemetery?" said Meghan Freeman, staring at the Mirror stubbornly. "Doesn't that counteract what You-Know-Who's been trying to do all year? Smuggle them _out?"_

"The Hogwarts cemetery is still on Hogwarts grounds," Ginny added, trying the _Bombarda _and blasting curse. Neither worked. "Ron and Hermione will be protected with the wards up...won't they?"

"Maybe, because of that, Dumbledore wouldn't think to guard it…" Luna said, her head tilted as she cast her Patronus at the confounded thing.

"Dumbledore said the Aurors and the Order are looking for them already," added Ginny. "If you were one of You-Know-Who's followers, would you be daft enough to be smuggling someone _into_ Hogwarts, instead of out of it, with all that going on?"

"That's why it's so brilliant, see?" stated Harry. "Dumbledore and them are all looking in Hogsmeade and at Malfoy Manor and London and the Death Eaters' safehouses. Anywhere they think Voldemort is. Nobody is looking _in _Hogwarts!"

Ginny's wand arm came down. She was exhausted, her muscles groaning in agony from overuse. But they had to find out how to unlock the Mirror.

_We have to._

"But they're guarding the tunnels, aren't they? So how did the Death Eaters take them from Hogsmeade, back into the wards, and through this one?" Meghan asked, ever the inquisitive one.

Harry looked just as stumped as they were.

_None of this makes any sense, _Ginny thought. _We are missing something. It doesn't make any sense, and why the hell can't we get through?_

The others kept up their barrage of spells, but Ginny kept thinking.

_There are no Aurors or Order members in Hogwarts. Dumbledore sent them all out to search for Ron and Hermione. Out of Hogwarts. Which means everyone is looking in the wrong places._

"Maybe the Death Eaters found a glitch. Maybe they can apparate or disapparate at the Cemetery and that's why they took my brother there?" Ginny guessed.

"You can't disapparate inside the Hogwarts grounds..._everyone_ knows that," said a scathing voice behind them.

Ginny, Harry, Luna, and Meghan turned around to find Draco Malfoy sitting in the armchair by the fire, staring at the green flames sulkily. Ginny hardly had time to wonder when the Slytherin had got there, or how long he'd been listening to their conversation, let alone how he had known where they'd run off to. Unless he'd been there the whole time?

"Well, does 'everyone' _also _know how to open this damn thing?" Ginny shot back, annoyed.

"No. But I do. I asked the Mirror how ages ago, and it showed me," said the smug-faced blond Slytherin.

"THEN TELL US HOW, YOU FUCKING PRICK!" Harry suddenly roared. He was beyond sick of Malfoy's stupid games. "IT'S YOUR DAMN FAULT EVERYONE WAS KISSED TONIGHT! YOUR—DAMN—FAMILY'S—FAULT!"

"I KNOW!" Draco Malfoy shouted back. "I KNOW IT'S ALL MY FAULT, OKAY? I didn't know it would be dementors. I SWEAR I didn't know it would be dementors! All they told me was that my father would be at Hogsmeade and that he would get Granger. That's why I made her stay in the tower. That's why I told everyone I could find to go back to Hogwarts. I didn't...if I did...if I knew it would be dementors...if I knew all those people would be Kissed...I wouldn't have...I wouldn't..."

His voice sounded small. Small, scared, unsure. And that unnerved Ginny more than anything else. But he took a deep breath, and his face was stony once more.

"I have no excuses. I'm going to go to Azkaban for what I've done. I know that. But first, I will be damned if I let my parents' murderer just get away with it," said Malfoy.

Ginny blinked, not sure on how to talk to him. Harry did it for her.

"Then tell us how to bypass the Mirror of Erised so we can go after them."

"Oh, please," said Draco with an eye-roll. "Don't tell me you're stupid enough to go after them by yourselves."

"And what would you propose we do?" Harry said, seething. "Tell someone? We already have, but I haven't heard anything back from them. They're all off looking in the wrong places. Meanwhile, someone has my best friends and is taking them somewhere we probably won't be able to follow if we stand around arguing with you about it. So unless you have another brilliant idea—"

"Yeah, I do," said Draco, standing up and turning to face them. "Take me with you."

They stared at him dumbfounded.

"Take you...what..._why_…? Dumbledore said—"

"Because I want to kill that sick son of a _Mudblood_ who murdered my parents," hissed Draco. "And if you don't let me come, I'll bind you to me this time, Potter. Two can play that game. I won't tell you how to open the Mirror until you do a Wizard's Oath."

The Gryffindor and Slytherin glared at each other for a minute. But Ron's and Hermione's lives were on the line.

"Fine, all right? Fine. I'll take you with me. Wizard's Oath, okay? _I solemnly swear that I won't stop you from coming with me._ Now just tell me how to open the damn thing!" said Harry, giving in.

Relieved at the oath, and Harry's upheld wand binding it, Malfoy told him. "Jones did a spell that made hot air shoot out at it."

"Hot...air? But it can't be that simple," mused Harry.

He looked at Ginny, and she looked at him. They walked to the Mirror of Erised until they were a hair's breadth from the surface of it. Together, they leaned forward till their faces were almost touching the Mirror. Then they breathed out.

The glass rippled.

"No way…" said Meghan, who hadn't known that the Mirror could open like this.

Buoyed by this, Ginny performed the hot air spell that kept the glass rippling in time for Harry and Malfoy to step through.

"You lot, stay here where it's safe," said Harry as he went. "Wait for Neville to come back."

"You should really know me my now, Harry," Ginny retorted, stepping through the rippling glass too. "If Voldemort has Ron, and Ron truly is the Honorary Heir of Gryffindor, then the Git Lord won't care one wit about me. And Neville is safe in the castle, so he can't get to him. Besides. You're going to need us. The more wands you have, the better, and you know it. We don't know how many Death Eaters are there. "

Worry and fear for them gnawed at Harry. But she knew she was right. The more wands they had, the better their chance was at bringing her brother and her best friend back safe and sound.

"You're not going without us!"

Draco Malfoy swore when they saw Meghan Freeman and Luna Lovegood climbing through the Mirror of Erised as well.

Frustrated, Harry gripped his hair. "Just make up your damn minds. We're not going to get there in time!"

"Harry!" Ginny scolded. But she couldn't blame him. They had taken enough time as it was just trying to open the Mirror. They had to get going now.

"It's not safe, Meghan, you shouldn't be there," Malfoy said, in a much milder tone than Harry used. "Neither should you, Luna."

Ginny hardly had time to marvel at the sarcastic tone Malfoy did _not _use for once. He sounded almost...caring. It made her want to vomit.

"He saved my mum, Weasley did. I mean..._Ron_. So if you're going, then so am I," Meghan said with petulance. "Besides, you know you'll need me. You know what I can do."

Malfoy hesitated. "She's right," he told Harry, the sarcastic bite uncharacteristically absent from his voice. "We really do need her. She can...heal...stuff..."

"You'll need me too," said Luna in her higher voice, a small smile gracing her face. "In case there are more dementors."

Ginny and Harry studied them. The faces of two Slytherins and one Ravenclaw stared right back at the two Gryffindors.

"All right...you all can come...but I'm going to Disillusion you as soon as we get there," said Harry.

Ginny cast one more glance around the empty N.E.W.T. Lounge for signs of Neville, or a teacher, or someone following them before she stopped the hot air spell and followed the others into the darkness.

She didn't see anyone coming.

* * *

Perplexed, and a wee bit frustrated as to how this supposed rescue mission was going, Harry led them down the dark and dreary tunnel, wand out and at the ready.

Luna was beside him, and he felt better just having her there. Remembering how useful she was at keeping the dementors at bay, he was really hoping they didn't run into any more. Draco Malfoy was trailing behind him, and Ginny took up the rear—no doubt keeping an eye on the Slytherin in case he tried any funny business. Meghan Freeman was closely beside Draco on his other side, and Harry remembered what Draco said about her as it niggled his brain incessantly.

_Heal stuff...heal..._stuff…

"Freeman...you didn't..._touch..._one of the Founders' Gifts by chance...did you?" Harry realized, remembering the odd way Freeman healed Lupin back at the Shack in September.

Meghan stuck her chin in the air, and nodded proudly. "Yes, I did."

"You _what?" _Several voice exclaimed.

"It was years ago, when I was little. I found a box in our attic that had some of Dadfoot's old things. Slytherin's locket was in it. I was excited and tried to carry it down the stairs to show my mum because I knew she liked necklaces, but I fell down the stairs with it. It cut me. Ever since then I've been able to heal people. But Mama's kept me from the locket ever since, because it was cursed. She got rid of it. Got rid of all of Dadfoot's old things. That was back when we thought he was bad. Gave it back to the Blacks, I think. I'm not an Honorary Heir anymore. But Hermione's wrong! I can still use my magic, even if it is wild. I don't need no locket to channel it. I'm really good at healing people! It's why I was let into Hogwarts when I was ten."

Dumbfounded, they stared at her.

"Wow!" Malfoy said, impressed.

Harry nodded appraisingly.

"Why, you little brat!" Ginny finally said, surprising the others. "Why didn't you tell us? You were _there _when Hermione told us about the Gifts and the Heirs! Why not come out about the locket?"

Meghan scowled. "It's not like I trusted any of you. You're Gryffindors."

_Meghan's power comes from a Gift? _Harry couldn't help but feel stunned. Everything was clicking into place.

"I can't believe it…" Harry thought, dazed. "That whole time Hermione was telling us that story about the Four Founders and their Heirs...and we had all four Heirs at the table with us! Ron, Hermione, Neville, and even Meghan!"

"We could stop him! We could stop Voldemort!" Ginny gasped. "With Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Meghan, we could—we could find that magic they're supposed to have, and—"

"I'm not an Honorary Heir anymore, weren't you listening?" Meghan said, exasperated. She stamped her foot in a childish way and the beads in her hair clinked together. "I don't have the Slytherin Gift, Voldemort must have found it and gotten it! It chose _him_, and now all I have is untamed magic. How the hell would I attack him with it? Heal him to death?"

"No...no, we need a better plan than that…" Harry muttered. "We don't have the Founders' Gifts, and we need them to unlock their magic. Meghan got cut on the Slytherin locket...that Death Eater got the sword out of its wards by using what _must_ have been Ron's blood—! Don't you see, all they'd have to do is pour their blood on the Gifts to unlock them! Hermione said herself nobody knew how the magic gets locked and unlocked when they pass down to each heir. Remember?"

"So...all they have to do is maim themselves, and everything will be hunkydory?" Ginny said, looking both disgusted and afraid.

"Not maim, Ginny. Just prick their finger is all. I'm sure that's all they have to do. Do you know if Neville's ever done that, Meghan? With the cup?" Harry asked, looking back at her. But he already knew Neville wouldn't do that before Meghan replied. The other boy hadn't, after all, shown forth an abundance of magic or power towards anything in the past...ever.

Meghan was aghast. "Of course not! Why would he want to smear his blood all over something you drink from?"

They shivered, and the trek was filled with silence once more. They turned sharply upwards, the darkness lit only with the faint bluish-white of their wands. Harry was beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic from all the tunnels they'd been in the past few months.

Harry looked back at Malfoy. "You know, I thought...I thought you were spying for Voldemort this whole time. But you weren't, were you?"

Draco scoffed. "Of course not. Why would I be a spy for the one person who has been making my life a living hell for years now?"

"He's right, you know," Luna said suddenly. "He completed his mission, but it wasn't the one from You-Know-Who. It was from his mother."

"What does she mean?" Harry asked him.

Draco sighed. Harry was just wondering if he'd have to torture the Slytherin for information, when Draco finally spoke.

"She told me to do whatever it took to get in with the Order. She knew the Dark Lord wasn't pleased with my family, she knew it was only a matter of time before he retaliated against us. So she told me that seeking sanctuary from the Order...from Dumbledore...was the only way we were going to survive this," he said, almost sulkily. "So that's what I've been trying to do for the past two months."

Something clicked inside of Harry.

_His mission was...was to get close to Dumbledore? To ask for help and sanctuary from Voldemort?_

"When you came to see us on the train," Harry realized. "You...you were trying to _warn_ us, weren't you?"

"Of course I was, what did you think I was doing?" scoffed Draco. "My mother told me to tell you what the Dark Lord was after. I Silenced the compartment so no Slytherins could overhear and go running to their daddies saying I was a blood traitor. I took away your wands because there was no way in hell I was going to trust you not to hex me. And I was right, didn't I? Your bloody goons just left me behind on the train during the very same Death Eater attack that I was _trying_ to tell you about! Cursed me before I could even say anything about the Dark Lord being after Weasley and Granger. Besides, I had Crabbe and Goyle with me, so I couldn't outright say anything and spill all the beans—"

"You said you were a 'messenger'," Ginny realized. "You meant for your _mum?"_

"Yes, She-Weasel, my mother," Malfoy said tersely. "Needless to say, Father did not approve when he found out. We...tried to keep it from him for as long as we could..."

"But what about when you tried to poison Hermione?" Harry asked, unforgiving. "She told me you tried to give her a love potion, and you used Krum to do it."

"Merlin, does she tell you everything?" Malfoy said with an eye-roll. "I was ordered to do it, all right? But I didn't follow through. It seemed...wrong. I Longbottomed out. And because of it, my job was given to someone else. Because of it, I...I probably signed my parents' death warrant." There was a slight quiver in his voice.

"Your...job?" Ginny asked, aghast, not having heard this part. In quiet undertones, Harry filled her in on what had happened between Malfoy and Hermione.

They came to the stairs and started up them with trepidation.

"Did you steal Hermione's wand too? During that Hogsmeade trip?" Harry asked, not keen on letting Malfoy off the hook yet. He still had loads to answer for.

"What Hogsmeade trip?"

"You know the one," Harry said nastily. "Where you gave that love potion to Krum to make Hermione drink. Where Hermione was almost mauled by a werewolf. Where Ron got attacked by a Death Eater. Where a human _skull _was chucked at him and we found Hermione's wand lodged inside it. _That _Hogsmeade trip. Don't tell me you were innocent in any of that!"

"I told you, I gave Krum that potion because I was ordered to! I was supposed to do far worse than that, but I didn't," Draco said savagely, protesting his innocence. "If you must know, I also watered down the potion. She wasn't head-over-heels for him like she ought to have been. It was much more mild. But no, I don't know anything about someone stealing her wand. That wasn't me."

"What about when you and your _friends_ grabbed Hermione on the path to Hagrid's?" Harry asked. "She told us what you and Nott were arguing about."

"Exactly. _Arguing_. Nott, that jumped-up nitwit, was trying to do the Dark Lord's bidding and grab Granger. Weasley too. He told me she was supposed to be bait for him. I...I sort of...tried...to stop them," Draco reluctantly admitted, as if embarrassed about his role in stopping the Slytherins from getting to Ron and Hermione. "His plan was idiotic anyhow. How the foxtrot did he think he was going to smuggle them out? And then when I heard Nott talking about the dragon and what he knew about it...I think they were working with Dolohov. I overheard plans on killing Weasley through use of the dragon, and capturing Granger through use of a Death Eater. I knew I had to do something. I can't stand your friends, but...well...I couldn't let them die…" Draco stopped, then tried to cover his tracks by adding, "Obviously Dumbledore would never give my family sanctuary if I let any member of the effing 'Golden Trio' die."

Harry groaned. "Is that what everyone's been calling us behind our backs? How mortifying…"

The others went on ahead, leaving Harry and Draco beside each other. Harry remembered earlier that night when Draco said, "_I told Granger not to come to Hogsmeade. I know about the curse on her, so I commanded her to stay in the tower."_

"So...during the Halloween Ball," said Harry slowly. "You really did tell her to go back up to Gryffindor Tower? How did you even get her alone? Ron and I were watching her the whole time."

"Not the whole time, were you," Draco answered darkly. "For hours I kept waiting for her to be alone, and she never was. You two were stuck to her like bloody leeches, plus those damn bodyguards kept following her around. So I crept close enough till I could whisper in her ear when she was sitting with Weasley. He didn't hear me, and I don't think she knew it was me who said it. I told her to pick a fight with him and to dance with someone else...then to forget the order. I knew I wouldn't be able to get her alone without them fighting. When those two fight, all hell breaks loose. I don't even know what it was about, but I saw my chance to talk to her when she was done dancing with Thomas. I told her to dance with me, and she did. I made sure we couldn't be seen by you or Weasley or the bodyguards. I knew there was no effing way you'd let me close to her, considering, so that was really the only way I could tell her about my father's plans to abduct her and Weasley. That Angorian Curse she's under seemed like the best way to keep her in the castle. I swear I don't know who let her out."

"And why didn't you try to stop my brother from going?" said Ginny, overhearing them with a scowl.

"I tried!" Malfoy hissed. "I hate your brother's fat face but I knew if I let him die I'd never get sanctuary. So I...I told McGonagall. I told her she should keep you and Weasley at Hogwarts last minute. I told her about the dangers of...of...you know...werewolves and Dark Lords being out and about and stuff. But like always, you two even escaped McGonagall, though it's not a bloody surprise is it, you're like the effing sun, no one dare light a candle to you. She probably bowed down to you as you left. It drives me up the bloody wall!""

That seemed to appease Ginny, and she nodded before walking faster to catch up with Luna and Meghan. Harry waited for her to walk faster, then broached something he'd been wondering during the entire conversation.

"Why do you keep trying to help Hermione?" Harry asked him quietly so the others wouldn't overhear.

But Draco just stared stonily ahead and walked faster, dodging Harry's question. Leaving Harry still clueless.

"Well...thank you for trying to save them, Draco," Luna spoke up, smiling at him as he caught up with them.

Draco Malfoy stopped walking and stared after her. Mutely, Harry wondered when the last time was someone had told the Slytherin thank you.

"So all those times you were having detentions with Lupin…" Ginny said.

"He was helping me. We were planning on how to get my family out from the Death Eaters' thumbs. My mother...she…" The Slytherin stopped talking, emotion thick in his throat. "It was...during our first detention that Lupin talked to me. Told me his...life story, as it were. Spying on the Dark Lord in the First War through the werewolf pack. Being on the run. Always hiding. Always being hunted for what he is. It just...got to me. I got close to him. Quite close, actually. And it was all because of my mother. I knew that if I could get close to him, I'd be getting close to Dumbledore. And fulfilling the mission my mother entrusted to me. And it worked. Dumbledore called me to his office and we made an agreement. I would tell him any time I heard more from the Dark Lord about what he was asking me to do...and he would put my mother in protection. At least…" Draco's voice turned dark. "That was the plan. He had a house set up for her. Snape's house, actually. He was going to move her in...in a week…"

He fell silent and Harry pitied him. He kept it to himself, however.

"Did she ask you to see what side Snape is on too? To see if you could trust him enough with your secret of finding help within the Order?" Harry asked, thinking back to the Slytherin dorms and the conversation between Draco and Blaise Zabini.

He remembered exactly what he heard. ""_Once I find out if Snape's really a traitor to the Dark Lord or not. Mother's already got me asking around. But if they all think I'm going to go beg at Dumbledore, they've got another think coming. It all depends on Snape. This mission was entrusted to me, and I hate it more than anything, but...this is the only way to save our necks. Mother's counting on me now. If I screw up like my fool of a father..."_

At the time, it sounded like he'd been referring to being a spy for Voldemort. But that wasn't it at all. Draco was talking about the mission his mother gave him. But of course no matter what she told him, he didn't want to go cozying up to Dumbledore. He was far too proud for that. And since he didn't trust Snape, that left—

Lupin.

"This explains why you were always alone," Ginny muttered. "Not with Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Zabini even...what, did they leave you? Turned out to be shitty friends after all?"

"It's not like I ever gave them a reason to stay," Malfoy shot back. "They're Slytherins. What did you expect?"

Luna reached out a soft hand, rubbing his arm. "You're always a good enough reason to stay."

Harry's mind kept going around his head in laps, remembering all his altercations with Malfoy the past few months.

Draco Malfoy, Petrified on the Quidditch stands next to McLaggen, who turned out to be far worse than they thought. He'd said he tried to stop McLaggen from pushing Hermione off. Maybe that actually was true?

Draco Malfoy, who said he tried to make Hermione not go to Hogsmeade that night because he knew somebody would try to abduct her yet again and take her to Voldemort. So...what, did he care for her? Or was he only interested in saving her so his own family would be saved?

Draco Malfoy, who was trying to send people back to the castle earlier that night, in a failed attempt to save them from what he thought was just his father. But he didn't care enough to tell Dumbledore? No...because he told Harry that his father _had _to succeed or he'd die. Obviously Draco wanted to save his father's arse as much as he could. And as a result from that, seventeen people were Kissed.

_But he hadn't known about the dementors. He thought he covered all his bases. His father being in Hogsmeade? His plan for that was to tell people not to be in Hogsmeade and go intercept him. Only I stopped him from that. He knew his father was after Hermione so he commanded her to stay away. _

_So how much of tonight should he really be responsible for?_

"What about when we saw you and Meghan in Hogsmeade?" said Harry. "Before the lightning struck?"

"I was helping him," Meghan spoke up simply. "Everyone deserves a bit of help sometimes, you know. Especially a Death Eater's son."

Mind reeling at the information that Draco Malfoy might have had good intentions all along, Harry led his friends farther into the darkness.

* * *

Blood.

It was all she could see when she opened her eyes at first. Dark red droplets dripped down her torn dress. Dripping down in front of her eyes and falling...falling...down without a noise onto the stone beneath her. The blood settled on the flat surface for a bit then slowly trickled away from her and into a groove in the stone that etched away from her in a pattern.

_Where am I?_

She stared at the pattern without really seeing it.

It was a Celtic symbol.

The Five-Fold symbol.

Four circles entwining with a fifth one in the middle. Each part of integration created an aureole that was called a _vesicae piscis_, she remembered from her Ancient Runes classes. It was a leaf-like shape, or a 'fish shape'...which is where the word _piscis _came from, really...

In the Five-Fold Symbol, there were eight of them.

Four outside circles. Eight aureoles. One center.

The stone came into clearer focus as she tried to remember what this Celtic symbol stood for.

The four elements. The four directions. The four seasons. The four…the Four Founders?

But what was the fifth circle for?

Before she could think of much else, stone and blood alike swam before her, and she closed her eyes to blink away the dizziness.

Hermione opened her eyes again, not sure if she had closed her eyes for minutes or hours. The runes on the stone beneath her reminded her of her thought process. Vaguely, she remembered where she had seen the symbol.

It was engraved into the marble gazebo in the Hogwarts cemetery that Professor Jones had taken them to in their first week of classes two months ago.

But how did she get here?

Her blood that was seeping into the groove was joined by another stream, and she followed that tiny trickle of blood over to several feet away from her. Her gaze traveled from the stone beneath them to the person it was coming from on her left.

"R...R...Ron?"

_No...no, no, no...not him too, please..._

Ron looked horrible. There was blood covering his chest, and her heart broke looking at him so defeated and helpless. His eyes were barely cracked open from the bruises on his face, and blood trickled down from a nasty cut on his forehead.

"_Ron!" _she gasped. "Are you okay? _Ron?"_

Panic for him roared within her.

He was upright, like she was, tied with his hands behind him on the marble pillar like hers were. His groaning signaled the alert in his consciousness.

"Ron! Ron! Are you okay? _Ron!"_

"Hermione, where…? Harry wants to...know..._where_…?"

She started shaking her head, but regretted it immeasurably. "I don't...remember...what happened…"

"Someone...attacked...me…" Ron groaned. "Where's Harry?"

"The last..I saw...he was at the Hog's Head...with the...others…"

"No...no...in my head. It was all in my head…"

His croaking, defeated voice trailed off, and Hermione feared the worst. He wasn't okay. He didn't sound okay. He was spouting nonsense.

She had to help him.

"My wand is gone," said Ron. "Yours too."

"I was…I was with George...how did we get here?"

"The dementors," he remembered suddenly. His gaze filtered up to the dementor-driven stormy sky above them. But other than the blanket of clouds drifting across the pockets of stars they were able to see, there were none. "I remember throwing my sword at...the one by...by...and then something hit me from behind."

Hermione tried not to think about how everyone else was doing too. Did they make it out okay? Was everyone safe? Or were they all…

She let out the shaky breath she'd been holding and tried to wrestle out of her chains.

He looked over at her worriedly.

"You don't look like you'll be okay," said Ron softly, light blue eyes standing out starkly in the darkness. "You've got real nasty cuts there, Hermione."

Her eyes traveled down to his shoulder where his blood was coming from. "Believe me, you look worse. How's your chest? Your arms?"

He tried to put on a brave face. "It's fine. I'll live. Do you have any idea who took us?"

Blinking, she tried to remember what happened after...after what?

"I don't...I don't know. He wore a mask. But he had two wands," she whispered, trying to remember the skewed view she had of the Death Eater from when she had been laying on the cobblestones. "Ron, I'm...I'm scared."

"Hey…" his voice grew quieter. More comforting. And she was reminded of the night they made the rules to the relationship, how much she admired him in that moment. How..._perfect..._he was in that moment. "_They don't have Harry_. As long as they don't have him, everything will be okay. No matter what happens to us."

_No matter what happens to us...no matter what happens to us…_

Tears leaked out of her eyes at this. In a perfect world, Harry would defeat Voldemort, and she and Ron would be right there alongside him. Nobody would die in this stupid war. She would finally tell Ron what she felt for him, and he would reciprocate. Everyone would live happily ever after...in a perfect world.

But this world wasn't perfect. And she and Ron would probably die facing Voldemort, if nobody saved them in time.

If they couldn't save themselves.

"Can you get out of your chains?" she whispered, afraid that talking aloud would alert whoever had tied them up. But in the darkness they couldn't see anyone—didn't know if they were being watched, didn't know if they had any chance at all of escaping—and that was equal parts frightening and damning.

"No. I've been trying for a while," said Ron dejectedly. "You?"

"Maybe...maybe if you commanded me," said Hermione, grasping at straws. "If you told me to break out, even if I couldn't do it normally, perhaps...perhaps the curse can make me have the strength and maybe I could do it. Do you think that would work?"

"One way to find out," Ron breathed. "Hermione...I command you unbind yourself and free me."

But nothing happened. Hermione was still wandless and chained up, as was Ron.

"Ron, I'm so sorry," Hermione said, horror and despair settling in at their predicament. "It's all my fault. This is all my fault."

"Hermione," said Ron, his voice consoling. "You didn't tie us up here. It's _Voldemort's_ fault. He's always the one to blame for...everything."

"But if I hadn't—" her lips suddenly clammed tight, and she inwardly swore. Of course, the curse was still activated and wouldn't let her spill any secrets about the commands she was given. She looked over at him, but he hadn't noticed why she stopped talking. Ron's eyes and ears were no longer on her. at all

His eyes were wide, fixed on the figure behind Hermione.

She looked over and saw the Death Eater striding towards them through the fog, as if in a dream.

The blood splattering his cloak revealed that he was the one to attack George. The two wands in his hand portrayed him as the double-wanded Death Eater they'd been theorizing for months. The cup and the diadem on his arm gave way to the truth that he had been the one commanding Hermione to do his bidding all night.

It was Viktor Krum.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm so blessed to have fans like you, sticking with me till this story's end. Just a few more chapters to go! Let me know your thoughts on this chapter. Did it happen how you thought it would? What do you think will happen next?**

**Also I would like to commemorate the 9/11 attacks that happened 19 years ago today. Today my only daughter turned 4 years old. And on this day, 19 years ago, my little sister turned 4 years old as the rest of us watched the two towers fall. We are so blessed to have heroes risking their lives for us! And I am grateful to be writing a story about heroes. **

**Hopefully this story, although only simple fanfiction, will mean as much to you as it does to me.**

**Till next time!**


	46. Beware the Fear

**BEWARE THE FEAR**

"V-Viktor?" Hermione breathed. "What're you...how…"

"I should have guessed," snarled Ron, trying to tear out of his magical bindings as well. "We should have known all along it was _you!_"

Viktor walked up the gazebo steps and came to stand in front of Hermione, face impassive.

"_Why?" _she asked, betrayal in her voice.

She should have known. If she hadn't been so stupidly blind to his advances, thinking he actually liked her…

_He never liked me. Of course he never liked me. _

Depression sunk in at how his betrayal left her reeling. She shouldn't have been so stupid, so foolish, thinking he liked her. Of course he was working for Voldemort. All her work on the riddles and the heirs and the Gifts...and he was just giving it all straight to Voldemort.

"The Dark Lord has my mother. I can't..._ever_...let anything happen to her. If I give you to him...he vill let her go," said Viktor, as simply as if he were explaining a Quidditch play. "Getting closer to you...vorking at Hogvarts...it vas all for Lord Voldemort."

Glaring at him from her columned prison, Hermione struggled against the chains holding her.

"Was all of it a lie?" she asked.

He didn't answer, his back turned to them, casting spells on the four posts around them that held the gazebo roof up. Besides the one she was tied to, and the one Ron was chained to, there were two spots left, chains dangling on them. But who was supposed to go there...

Ron was likewise furiously trying to release his bindings. He shouted, "You son of a bitch! You've been planning this all along, haven't you? You've been after her since before this school year started, just biding your damn time. How long've you been working for Voldemort, eh? How long since you started dating her did you plan on selling her out to him? _Answer me!"_

Viktor whipped his wand in Ron's direction. "_Crucio!"_

Hermione's heart tore in two at the sound of Ron's shouts.

"Stop it!" she shrieked. "STOP IT!"

_Someone has to come. Please, please, let someone come. _Didn't they hear his screams? Why in the world wasn't anyone coming?

Ron kept groaning in agony, his teeth clenched, his back bowed, lines of blood trickling down his wrists from the sharpened chains digging into his skin.

"Viktor, please! _Please! _Just stop hurting him! Please! I'll do anything, Viktor, please _stop!" _Hermione pleaded. "VIKTOR!"

Mercifully, Viktor raised his wand, and Ron sagged. The air was filling with his gasping and Hermione's sobbing.

"Ron! Ron, are you okay?" she cried. "_Ron?"_

Worry for Ron cut into her far deeper than the cuts on her chest and stomach. It was one thing for her to be here. It was her own fault, for trusting this sadistic bastard. But for _Ron, _Ron who would never trust a Death Eater like she had, who would never have been blindsided like this…

_It's my fault he's even here. It's all my fault, Merlin, I'll never forgive myself if Viktor hurts him._

"Viktor, _please,_ just let him go!" she pleaded. "Please, please, just let him be safe—"

"You vant him _safe?"_ Viktor sneered. The ugly twist to his features was foreign and did not match with anything he had portrayed to her at all. "I knew you never cared for me at all, you vere just using me to make him vant you, you selfish Mudblood slag!"

"Don't you call her that!" Ron said hoarsely.

But this only served to irritate Viktor more, and he cast another Cruciatus at Ron.

"NO!" Hermione screamed as Ron's roars filled the air once more. "STOP IT! Viktor, please, PLEASE! I'll do anything, just let him go! _Let him go!"_

But he wouldn't listen. For endless seconds, Viktor trained his wand on a screaming Ron, sadistic pleasure pure in his eyes. Hermione pleaded with him the entire time, trying anything—_anything_—to stop him from torturing Ron.

"You don't need him, you have me! Voldemort couldn't need us both just to get to Harry! Please just let him go! _Viktor!" _she sobbed, then shouted, "SOMEBODY HELP US!"

It was this last scream that made Viktor stop. Once again, Ron sagged against his chains, tears streaking his face, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fought wave after wave of dizziness and pain.

Viktor stalked closer to her. "You could scream all you vant, you little bint, but I varded this area vell. No one can hear you, no one can see you, no one can track you, _no one knows ve are here. _And soon you both vill be in the presence of the Dark Lord, and your screams vill not even matter."

Her eyes widened in horror. Voldemort was coming here? Why did he even want her and Ron? Was he planning on using them as bait, and for Harry to save them?

"Please, Viktor, don't hurt Ron! You know the Dark Lord won't like it. He won't want either of us ruined," Hermione begged. "Please, _please, _just let Ron go. You have me, you can command me, and I'll do it. I won't put up a fight or try to escape o-or only half-fulfill a command. Please, Viktor, please, _just let him go!"_

Viktor smirked. "You don't anything about vhy the Dark Lord really vants you, do you? I bet it drives you mad vhen someone knows something you don't."

He looked positively smug about the reason she and Ron were even there in the first place and all she wanted to do was punch him in his stupid, arrogant face.

But no...she had to keep him talking. If he could just keep talking, perhaps it would prolong their sentence long enough for someone to find them, or for her to come up with a means of escape. At the very least, it would keep his mind on her and not Ron.

Fearfully, she glanced over at Ron, her mind whining in anguish over his white face, his closed eyes, the blood matted to his front. _She had to save him._

"Viktor, I don't understand. You...you were in the hospital wing...they said you had little chance of coming out of that alive…how did you…" Hermione said confused. "You transfigured someone, didn't you? Changed someone's face to mimic yours…to that poor soul who is actually laying there comatose. Who's really there? _Whose body did you take?"_

"Dedalus Diggle," he answered.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath, remembering the older wizard's disappearance in all the papers.

"You're...you're the one who gave Madam Hooch her 'bad leg', aren't you?" asked Hermione, still dazed. "You needed a job here and removing her out of the equation gave you the perfect excuse."

No words came out of the mouth of their captor, however, as he moved around Ron to check on his bindings. It wasn't until he bent down to trace the runes on the gazebo ground with an incantation that Hermione saw the magical device in his ear and realized.

"That isn't a magical hearing aid in your ear," she said. "It's a _listening_ device. Your ears work fine, you just needed an excuse to listen in on our private conversations!"

He looked up, bemused. "Bravo. I'll give you one guess as to how I did that."

"My necklace," she whispered, cursing herself for being so stupid. She just accepted his gift blindly. Merlin, had she been a fool... "But I-I performed spells and charms on it to make sure it wasn't a Dark object—"

Viktor stood and stepped towards her. His fingers curled around the necklace he gave her that she still wore on her breastbone. "There is one Dark spell that goes undetected you vouldn't have known to look for."

Then with a jerk, he ripped the necklace off her, and she knew that's how how he knew about the riddles and where she kept them. Everything she'd told the others about the Founders' Gifts and the Triquetra Effect...and who knew what else. Her necklace was like a microphone and his 'hearing aid' just a spelled earpiece.

"That's how you found out about the Heirs and their Gifts. That's how you knew about the Sorting Hat's riddles being in my trunk. _You were the Spy in the Tower, weren't you?" _Hermione snarled at him.

He looked her in the eyes, no emotion held there. "I vas doing my duty. My job vas to find those riddles you vere telling others so much about. Voldemort already thought you might be the Ravenclaw Heir. That vas all thanks to Dolohov at the Department of Mysteries vhen you vere there last June. That spell he cursed you vith reacted differently than it should have vith a Muggle-born. So before the term began, he vent through the lines and used Dark Magic to trace the blood to you. He soon found out about Veasley. So he told me to go back to Hogvarts. I intercepted your owls vith your schedules and Hogvarts announcements. I knew the vay to get into the vards vas through Madam Hooch. Because of this, I vas the Dark Lord's best bet. I'd already vormed my vay to your heart, though I didn't think the information vould be nearly as useful as it turned out to be. Turns out, being friends vith Harry Potter has its perks. So he gave me the task. Find out about the rest of the Heirs and Gifts. Take them. Take Veasley. Take _you_..."

"Oh please, like I believe that. I'm a Mudblood, remember?" she snapped. "The dirty, nasty piece of filth you all keep calling me. You're delusional! You and the Dark Lord both!"

"Bite your tongue!" Viktor hissed, unbidden fury in his face from her insults to his so-called master.

But the curse still coursed through her magic, and Hermione bit her tongue. Tears of humiliation stung her eyes, but still she glared at him.

He turned and walked away, casting his wand once more to the blood spilled on the ground from hers and Ron's posts. The blood was ever so slowly trickling through the grooves towards the middle.

_I don't understand, what is he even waiting for?_

Her mind swam with his betrayal, memories flitting about her head like the elusive Golden Snitch, trying to remember the first day of term. Viktor Krum, coming to see her for the first time in the Great Hall. Viktor Krum, casting that odd curse on Peeves, making him seize and get rigid—

"_Intertio,"_ she whispered, remembering. "That's a Dark curse, isn't it? It means 'to seize'. You didn't just stop Peeves that day, you actually—"

"Stopped his heart? Yes...fun little curse that one...yet since he is a poltergeist, and already dead, it couldn't kill him again. But he blinked out of existence for a few veeks," said Viktor in admittance. "I'm surprised you didn't figure it out sooner, really. Brightest vitch at Hogvarts, and all that."

"Was that you in Hogsmeade, attacking me?" Ron spoke up, his words hoarse, and his eyes not quite open. "Did you throw that skull at me too?"

"No...that couldn't have been," Hermione said, not taking her eyes off Viktor's. He likewise kept his unnerving stare rooted to her face. "You were with me at the time. McLaggen had Head Boy duties during Hogsmeade too...so that must have been Dolohov. When that happened, you had me in that small clearing, and I...I…"

Her fuzzy pink memories of that day, just a month ago, haunted her with how much she had been infatuated with him at the time. How much she wanted to kiss him, how she wanted to do more, which didn't make any sense because she just wanted to tell him that she was interested in Ron.

"I _thought _it was you who purposely gave me the love potion. You were lying?" she asked, remembering. The elfwine. The lingering aftertaste. Her accusations and his denials. "I thought I was in love with you! You knew I was going there to reject you, so you slipped something into my drink…" she trailed off. "But I spat it out when I realized what the wine was made out of. If I hadn't, I would have gotten the full effects. I would have been completely throwing myself at you, fawning over you, waiting on you hand and foot…gone with you anywhere..."

"Exactly. Since that little blood traitor Malfoy vasn't going to do it on his own vhen I asked him to. I found that a little..._persuasion..._goes a long vay," said Krum. "I vas told to capture you. I tried, that day. Ve had everything all set up, Dolohov and I. You vould have gone anyvhere vith me if you had taken the whole potion. But then damnable Greyback got in the vay...he vent against the Dark Lord's orders. He vas never supposed to bite you. To do so vould have gotten your blood contaminated. And ve couldn't have that. Then of course, after Lupin sent on us on the road to Hogvarts, I tried to capture you again. And yet again, your bloody cat foiled it."

Hermione stared at him, horrified at the trap she almost fell into. Crookshanks had saved her that day too? Vaguely she remembered the snarling in the woods and the beasts fighting.

"I knew you vere having second thoughts," said Viktor sourly. "I knew you didn't vant to be vith me. I knew I had to persuade you. The Imperius only vorks short-term, and I needed long-term effects for you to stay close to me till I could figure out the vay around the vards. Or to capture you in Hogsmeade again. And vhat better vay than to use someone I knew hated you as much as I? I got the Slytherins to do quite a lot of things for me...stealing things, lying about things, brewing things, poisoning them against you, making them vant to capture you...it vasn't hard really. And that's vhere McLaggen came in. I used him vhen I knew I vould be implicated in something. I had an alibi for vhen McLaggen Obliviated Potter after he got Veasley's Patronus. For vhen Dolohov attacked Veasley in Hogsmeade. For vhen McLaggen attacked you in the Quidditch stands. For vhen the Slytherins attacked in the corridors. McLaggen gave Veasley the poison that almost killed Potter. McLaggen vas the one who stole your vand before you vent to Hogsmeade so you vould be helpless vhen I took you. I vas all set to capture you multiple times and make it look like someone else did it."

Hermione was just dazed.

"You were working with Dolohov, McLaggen, and the Slytherins," she said. "You worked in tandem and each shared some of the work, so as not to draw suspicion to any one of you. For each action that happened, the others had alibis. And when they were captured, you were free to do the rest of the work on your own."

Viktor laughed, and it chilled her.

"True, ve did vork rather vell. Though McLaggen only knew so much. He didn't know about me, for example. I vore the mask vhen he saw me. Malfoy too, before I found out he vas a traitor. He just knew about Dolohov. I needed an alibi for all those times ve tried to capture you. Obviously Dumbledore vas too much of a genius not to figure out I vas Voldemort's spy. So Dolohov vould Obliviate me every single time I vould go into Dumbledore's office to be interviewed and questioned. I remained the innocent former Quidditch star vith the foreign accent. And vhen ve vere done, Dolohov vould give me my memories back. A quite useful little exercise, vouldn't you know. The simple-minded fool never suspected a thing. He suspected me, of course, vhich is vhy I made sure to have an alibi."

Hermione bristled at the dig at their Headmaster.

"But how did Dolohov even get in through the wards?" Ron croaked. "They were charmed to let no evil in…"

"Because…" Hermione surmised, "he _wasn't_ evil when he came in..."

"Ve actually found that using the Memory Charm vasn't quite good enough," Viktor answered. "So he became an Animagus and used his owl form—"

"_Kiril," _Hermione gasped, remembering the dark owl that bit her finger the first day she met him. The dark owl that Harry said attacked Neville trying to get a mysterious package. "But how did he get past Professor McGonagall? She was tasked with sussing out any and all possible Animagi trying to sneak in."

"Ve made sure she never saw him. He never came into the Great Hall vhere she could see him, he never roosted in the Owlery, he never flew around in the daytime vhen she vas out."

Ron looked sickened by him. "You brought that monster here? You're the one who sicced him loose on the castle? There are _children_ here!"

"That 'monster' taught me everything I know. I owe him everything. Including..._you_…" Viktor stated, drawing closer to Hermione once more. "It vas his idea to send all the dementors to Hogsmeade to Kiss you and Veasley. The Dark Lord only needs your bodies after all...not your souls."

"And you call him 'Master'?" Ron shook his head, disgusted. "I'd really love to see things from your point of view. Too bad I can't shove my head that far up my arse."

"Don't be an imbecile," Viktor snarled.

"Oh, please, like he would dare take away the only thing you're good at," Hermione sneered.

Grabbing her chin roughly in his hand, Viktor Krum stared at the deep cuts on her stomach and chest. Then his stare that she used to love traveled up to her eyes, cold and hard. Then Viktor leaned in closer, his hand holding Hermione's face roughly. He brought her face closer to his until their lips were a millimeter away.

"Don't touch her!" Ron snarled.

"Oh, never fear, Veasley," said Viktor, "My kisses don't tend to suck people's souls out."

And then he kissed her, forcefully hard, her face still gripped tight in his hand, biting her lips, her tongue, forcing his own into her mouth, denying her fear-stricken struggles to get away. Hermione never felt so disgusted.

"Get away from her!" Ron roared, his chains clanking loudly as he struggled. "_Get away from her!"_

After undying seconds of this struggle, Viktor broke away from her, though he still held her face and now rested his forehead against her own, eyes closed. "I alvays did love kissing you," he whispered so only she could hear. "Too bad a whore's tongue is as forked as a snake's."

Tears slid unbidden down her face as he walked away, matching the drop of blood that trailed down her bruised and bleeding mouth.

"You bastard!" Ron shouted, red from his exertion at trying to escape. He kept shouting more profanities at Viktor. The fury on Ron's face was indescribable.

Hermione whispered, "You were the one in the Forbidden Forest, weren't you? The one with two wands. One wand was yours...and the other was Diggle's. It was you during the attack on the train. You cornered us in the clearing, you hit Ron with...w-with that spell...you Cruciated me...you Cruciated Ron. You're the Death Eater I've been having nightmares about for _months_."

Tears clouded her vision, but she still heard Ron cursing the one who'd been tormenting them for months on end.

Her fear, her rage, the magnitude of everything that he put her through slammed into her. "You bloody bastard," hissed Hermione. "_How could you?_ Why would you do that to me? What kind of sick person does that to people? Abduct them and curse them, and then to try and make them fall in love with you in the same breath? You say I betrayed you, but you did ten times worse. You son of a bitch, _I hate you!_ I HATE YOU!"

In a flash, Viktor's wand was at her throat in his other hand. He did not look amused. Viktor's hand reached up to her chest again, necklace still held tight in his hand. His wand touched the red V-shaped scar Dolohov opened up, and he traced it with his wandtip, pushing in as hard as he could. The skin tore open yet again. Blood trickled out of the red scar. A small moan escaped her, though she hadn't wanted to give him the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. She closed her eyes, dizzy again, bells ringing around her ears.

Ron was shouting obscenities at Viktor, but she couldn't hear his words.

The thin trickle of blood came out of her opened scar from his advances and trailed down her front, and Viktor stared at it almost hungrily_._ "I alvays did enjoy the taste of your blood," he said darkly.

"Get _off _me!" she pleaded, tears stinging her eyes.

"Shut up!" he snarled, and the Angorian Curse made her mouth clam up.

He stayed, though. His body pressed up against hers, his hands snaking around her bare arms to her hands tied behind her.

She breathed in sharply when he leaned his face in close to her chest. She pressed herself as far away from him as she could muster, but that didn't stop him from sticking his tongue out and...and..._licking _her. The slimy feel of his tongue on her skin right in between her breasts where he licked the blood droplet clean, made her just about puke.

She felt violated. Her space, her skin, one of her most sensitive and private body parts being completely used by such a vile, sick man.

"Perhaps I should just give in to your scent," he hissed into her ear, biting her earlobe. Her body shivered in disgust and fear. "Do vith you vhatever I vant...make you comply vith the Angorian...make that damn boy vatch to see how a _real _man behaves…"

His fingers left her arm and yanked a fistful of her hair to breathe in through his nose deeply. The dark insinuations of his words bled into her.

But his fingers strayed too close.

Turning her face sharply, Hermione bit _hard_ onto his finger.

Viktor roared in pain. She tasted the metallic blood on her tongue, but clamped down harder, not letting go until she heard the satisfaction of a bone crunch in the joint.

She spat his own blood into his face.

"Over my dead body," she hissed right back at him.

His fist came out of nowhere.

Her head reeled into the pillar she was chained to, ears ringing from where his fist connected with her cheek. She barely heard Ron yelling at Viktor, the ringing too great to make out anything tangible.

But one good thing had come out of it. Her vision blurred out and the dark forested trees beyond them grew hazy and shadowed. When they slowly came into focus again, her heart leapt in her chest.

She saw Harry.

* * *

"I can't believe he did that," Ginny breathed in horror. "He just...he just _hit_ her!"

"Viktor Krum...but he's our teacher!" said Meghan, aghast.

"Why is he doing this?" Luna whispered.

Harry stared angrily at the scene from their perch behind a large headstone close to the forest, several hundred yards away. It had taken them far too long just to get into the wards surrounding the cemetery….and that was only thanks to Malfoy and his knowledge in Arithmancy. Harry barely had time to marvel once again how _Draco Malfoy _was helping them. After twenty minutes of work, he was able to create what looked like a door that allowed them entrance but wouldn't alert the Death Eaters to their position. But as soon as they stepped inside and saw what was happening on the gazebo, all five of them were completely stunned. Seething at the betrayal, Harry cursed himself for not recognizing Krum for what he really was.

A Death Eater.

Before he knew it, he was walking forward, wand arm shaking with fury as he lifted it up, pointing it at the hated traitor hurting his best friends. Hearing Ron's roars of insults hurled at Krum mingled in his ears with his other friends' hissed whispers from behind him only spurred him on. Harry didn't care in the least, he just wanted the twisted bastard to pay.

A spell collided into legs, making him crash hard to the ground.

He looked around wildly, but it wasn't Krum who targeted him. It was Draco Malfoy.

Arms shot out to pick him up off the forest floor, and Draco's angry white face appeared before Harry's own, helping him up.

"Are you out of your mind?" Draco whispered furiously. "Do you always run half-cocked into battle like this? Use your head, Potter. If you run in like that, he'll just pick you off. Or worse, he'll use Granger or Weasley as collateral damage. If you want them to come out of this unscathed, you have to stop being so thick! We don't even know if he's the only one here."

It was a bitter potion to swallow, accepting Draco Malfoy as being right, but Harry reluctantly nodded his head in agreement.

"All right...you're right...we need to try and circle around the gazebo and surround them. That will help us to find out if there is anyone else lurking in the shadows as well. They can't disapparate, we're still on Hogwarts grounds. And the wards haven't been triggered, so those are still intact…" Harry stopped.

"This doesn't make any sense," Ginny whispered what Harry was thinking. "What on earth is he even doing? There's no way out of the wards here. If he's taking them to Voldemort, he'd have a really tough time of it, he'd have to drag them all the way to the Hogwarts gates or back to Hogsmeade to get past the wards. Unless...I don't know, you think he has a portkey?"

"No," said Harry. "I already thought of that. Dumbledore banned them on Hogwarts grounds ever since the Triwizard Tournament when Fake-Moody planted that cup. Dumbledore's the only one who can make any portkeys going in or out of Hogwarts, and it's not like he would have just given one to Voldemort. Or Krum."

"Then what is he planning?" Ginny asked, worried. "You don't think he'd just going to...to..._kill them?"_

"Well, we're not going to let him," said Harry with resolve. "Meghan, Draco says you can heal?" Then continued when she nodded, "We'll need you here then. But because you're such an asset, I want you to stay back here and wait till after we storm the gazebo, all right? Now Luna, I need you to run back to the castle and alert anyone and everyone you can. We need reinforcements! We can't do this on our own. Check Dumbledore's office first, then the hospital wing. Look for Neville, or anyone in the Order, or one of the Head teachers. Tell them where we are and that we need help. It looks like Krum's alone, but he might not be for long. Tell them that he's the one who took Ron and Hermione!"

Luna nodded and took off back to the tunnel entrance.

"The rest of us are going to surround him. Malfoy to the west, Ginny to the north, Meghan will stay here on the east side where you'll have more coverage, and I'll take the south. When we're all in position, don't attack till my signal. Ready?"

They nodded and quietly snuck off to their posts; even Draco Malfoy with his newly-turned beliefs obeyed. And with the Invisibility Cloak, Harry would have the upper hand once Krum realized he was being attacked.

Harry slipped on the Cloak and drew closer to where Ron and Hermione were.

It was then that he saw them. Then that he stopped cold, and his hopes at leading a rescue plummeted.

Three Death Eaters were striding towards Krum.

_Bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger! _The hopelessness of the situation whined at him. The four of them could have all taken on Krum by himself, but they would be no match for four Death Eaters. They were only schoolkids. But he couldn't _not _try to save Ron and Hermione. Remembering the Battle at the Department of Mysteries, and how horrible everything went—how he had walked his friends right into a trap and they almost died—

Panic, fear, worry amassed. He couldn't let anyone die.

In vain, Harry sent another Patronus shooting down the tunnel, hoping against hope that none of the Death Eaters could see it. Dumbledore had to come quick, before things got worse.

_What the hell am I supposed to do?_

* * *

Ron was white-hot with fury, the anger pulsating through him like nothing else. Merlin, how he hated that sick bastard.

He knew Krum was bad news. _He knew it. _He told everybody every chance he could get, yet nobody believed him. Still, Ron couldn't have known that Krum would stoop so low as this. To actually _hurt them_ like this.

The chains he kept pulling on in his efforts to get free rubbed his skin raw, stinging him and making him bleed. His voice was raw and hoarse from the shouting he did while under the Cruciatus, but he didn't give a damn. He had never been this angry before. His worry for their situation was overwhelming.

"You're the one who abducted Hermione on Saturday," Ron said, red in the face. "You _took_ her! She was gone for half the day! She doesn't even remember any of it! What, did you knock her out? Did you Obliviate her or something? Make it so she wouldn't remember whatever sick thing you were going to do? WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HER?!"

Ron saw Krum's fingers around his wand tighten, but he didn't care. He _really _couldn't care less about that effing, two-faced traitor.

"Nobody could be this sick," he hissed to Krum. "Nobody could be this heartless. You're such an effing _coward—!"_

"_Crucio!"_

"Viktor, NO!"

But Hermione's scream was lost in the chilly night air as Ron roared in agony, hot, sharp, shooting pain streaming through his body like Fiendfyre. His skin crackled from the electricity shocking him—

But as soon as it began, the curse was lifted. Krum's torture was interrupted. Ron sagged against his bindings, gasping. Vaguely he heard voices as three hooded wizards joined them on the dais. They were talking to Krum, but Ron's ears were still ringing, his body still spasming from the left over pain shooting through him.

He heard Hermione's gasp. Weakly, he glanced up at them.

It was his Auror Bodyguards.

For one wild second, his hopes rose, ecstasy filled him at the thought of being done with this hell-hole—of being rescued—

"You don't know how long I've been wanting to make this pup squeal like that," said Auror Savage, sneering at Ron, sliding his wand across Ron's neck like a threat.

Dressed in full Death Eater regalia, the Auror guard stared down at him with no warmth or kindness on his face, and Ron realized with horror just how deep Voldemort's forces had run into Hogwarts and the Ministry.

"You _bastards!" _Ron hissed through his teeth. "You were working for Krum this whole time? Where's your loyalty, eh? Why'd you sell out the Ministry? Why'd you sell out _Dumbledore?"_

Harper chuckled. "Working for the Dark Lord is far better than following after your sniveling arse. You think we want to follow you around all day? Listen to your conversations...watch you mope, moan, complain…"

"You can't imagine how many times I wanted to rip your head off..." said a voice in Ron's ear, and he realized with a start that Junke had come up behind him, "...poison your drink...curse you off your broom...push you down the stairs…"

"Get away from him!" Hermione snarled. "You back-stabbing sellouts—!"

"Vhat did you do to the other guards?" Krum asked the bodyguards.

"Junke killed Williamson. A slashing curse took off his head, his arms, and a leg," said Harper, as casual as if he were describing the differences between racing brooms. "Fallows almost ratted us out when he saw what Junke did. Almost reached some of the Aurors. So I blasted him from behind. It blew his body apart. Chunks everywhere. Don't think he'll be telling anyone now what we did…"

Waves of nausea swept over Ron and Hermione both, and Ron puked a little in his mouth. Williamson and Fallows...he had joked with them, complained about them, laughed with them. They'd been stationed outside the loo while he was taking a piss, walked him to class, saved him from the Slytherins…

So had Junke, Harper, and Savage too though.

_At least I thought they had. They were trying to _kill _me that whole time?_

"Merlin's bloody balls, Krum, you haven't got this thing started yet?" said Harper. "The Dark Lord won't be pleased."

"It von't start vithout the Hufflepuff Heir. Dolohov should be along shortly—"

_The...Hufflepuff Heir?_

"Good, plenty of time for us to have some fun with the little bitch," Hermione's old bodyguard, Junke, said, moving right up next to her, reaching a hand out—

"Kick his arse, Hermione," Ron said, fury rising within him.

Although her arms were bound, Hermione's knee came upwards sharply, a crunch sounding out as it met its mark, making Junke swear in pain.

The next thing Ron knew, a curse shot towards him for his cheek, and his body started to spasm. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, the world jerking around him, and Hermione's cries pleading with them to stop hurting him echoed around him.

Mercifully, it was Krum who stopped the curse, hissing at the others to back away and guard the perimeter. They stalked away, their footsteps treading softer as they left.

Wearily, Ron opened his eyes once more, the dark world around him swimming. But when his eyes focused again, he saw Krum's ugly git face come closer to his.

"So Veasley. Now ve are alone once more...do you still vant to know vhat I did to her after the dragon attacked?" Krum asked, a stony cold look in his eyes. "Ve have some time still."

Ron muttered, arms spasming again, "If you won't...let us go…just...just...tell me she'll be...okay..."

"She vill never be okay," Krum hissed. "Not after vhat I did to her."

His blood chilling after Krum's pronouncement, Ron did not like how this was going. "What...what do you mean? What….did you do to her…?"

"No, Ron, I don't care what he did," Hermione whispered, her face tortured as she saw his body twitching from the torture. "Viktor, I don't care, please, _please, _just let Ron go!"

But Krum ignored her, and touched his wand to his forehead, pulling out a memory. The long, white strand came out of his head and dangled from his wand as he moved his wand in the air in front of them in circles faster and faster, until a wide, wispy circle appeared in the air before them.

And then a memory started playing out in the circle.

Ron felt quite like he was watching one of those Muggle veletisions. Only the color was distorted, almost black and white, and the vision was very limited, and Ron realized they were looking right through a Death Eater's mask.

They were seeing out of bloody Krum's eyes.

In the vision, they could see memory-Krum was carrying something. He was in the Forbidden Forest, the limited view of trees and the ground bumping up and down slightly as he walked. Then Krum looked down, and Ron saw he was carrying past-Hermione. She was limp, as if she was asleep, only her eyes were open, and Ron realized Krum had cast a curse on her to make her unable to use her body. She had on the red shirt she was wearing during the Quidditch match. This must have happened when she was taken on Saturday.

"_Where are you taking me?" _the Hermione in the memory asked.

"_To Voldemort,"_ said the Krum holding her.

He stopped, then, and set her down rather gently on the ground by a tree. Casting a few spells, they could see the air in front of them shimmer, and Ron recognized the Hogwarts wards.

"_Evil cannot get in,"_ Krum muttered. "_But it can surely get out…"_

Then he picked up Hermione and walked forward, through the wards.

There was a blast. Blackness filled the vision circle as Krum likely blacked out from the force of being hurled backwards.

A few seconds of darkness went by, and then the scene changed.

Krum was standing now and talking to Dolohov.

"_The vards von't let her out! I thought you knew vhat you vere doing?_" he hissed.

"_Well, that won't be a problem, will it, if we just kill her now?"_ Dolohov said, an evil glint in his eyes. He raised his wand and pointed it at Hermione, who was still laying magically prone on the forest floor, a nasty cut now on her forehead, the terror on her face evident.

"_No! No, please! I'll do anything," _she begged, tears in her voice.

Ron's heart broke and he glanced over at the present Hermione, who was watching the scene in front of them aghast. It was clear she couldn't remember any of this. Ron turned back to the memory in the air.

"_Anything?" _Dolohov came closer to her, his face going out of view as he walked away from Krum. Krum's wand was brought into view, knuckles white, as Dolohov advanced on Hermione.

"_The wards let evil out,"_ Dolohov continued. "_Perhaps all we have to do is make you...evil. Do a horrendous deed. Something purely vile like...yes...I think I have just the thing…"_

And then he changed forms, and took off into the air, a black-banded owl.

The scene changed again. The sky above them was a bit darker, and shadows were being cast.

Krum held a standing Hermione to him—the former curse on her body had been lifted, it looked like—and Dolohov was aiming his wand at her throat.

Her sobs filled the air as Krum's arms held her fast.

"_Kill them," _Dolohov hissed. "_Kill them and we will let you live."_

"_No! No, no, no, please!" _Hermione sobbed. "_I won't...I won't...I would never…"_

"_KILL THEM!" _Dolohov roared, not used to his orders being disobeyed. "_Cruci_—"

"_NO!" _Krum shouted. Dolohov's curse stopped abruptly, and Krum continued, "_If you cast that curse on her now, her screams vill alert everyone to our position! I vill make her do it."_

Memory-Krum brought his wand up to Memory-Hermione's throat. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"_Imperio."_

They could see her eyes glass over. She stopped struggling, and Krum let go of her. He was in control now, and it was obvious the power felt good.

Walking around her, seeing her standing so still, eyes seeing but unseeing, Krum didn't really seem to have a problem with it.

"_Now, to make sure she truly is compliant…" _he said, "_Her-mione, come to me."_

The way she walked ever closer to him, so obedient and un-emotional, made Ron physically sick. She looked up into Krum's eyes, and at all of them watching through the circle of memories, and Ron waited with dread to see what Krum would do next.

"_Give me a kiss, love."_

Hermione leaned forwards. They didn't have to watch, however, because memory-Krum mercifully closed his eyes, and the vision blackened.

And then his eyes opened, and Hermione had already taken a step back, expression wooden.

"_You sure that's all you want her to do?" _Dolohov sneered in the background. "_I can leave you two alone if you want some privacy. Surely the Dark Lord wouldn't begrudge you that before we take her to him."_

Krum glared at Dolohov, then gave Hermione his wand, and walked her over toward the two still forms on the ground in front of Dolohov.

"_Now..._kill _them," _he commanded her. "_Kill your parents."_

They watched in horror as past-Hermione lowered the wand to the unconscious bodies of her parents. They were lying on the ground right before her in the Forbidden Forest. The blonde curls hiding her mother's lax face...the argylle sweater vest and loafers on the brown-haired man standing out rather odd in such a dangerous situation...

There was a sharp intake of breath in Ron's ears, and he tore his eyes away from the horrific scene playing out in front of them. The present Hermione had tears streaming down her face, eyes transfixed on the screen in front of them.

"No," she gasped, voice echoing around the gazebo. "No, no, no…"

Yet the wand, ever quaking, did not cast.

"_Do it...do it NOW…" _said memory-Krum, voice sounding more dangerous.

And then, in a move none of them were anticipating, Hermione jerked the wand to the Death Eaters and she cried out, "_Expulso!"_

Krum and Dolohov were both blasted backwards—the back of Dolohov's head hit a tree and he slid down it, knocked out. The memory flickered out of view as Krum went down too, but it was momentary.

Hermione turned, clearly no longer under the Imperius, and started running. But Krum just shook the dizziness away, and he was soon after her running form. Ron feared for past-Hermione's safety.

Past-Krum quickly caught up with her, and knocked her to the ground. The wand was jarred out of her hand a moment later, and it soared to a spot on the forest floor that neither of them could reach. Then they were wrestling with her, grunts and snarls filling the air.

"_You dare to defy Death Eaters?" _Krum growled, as he tried to grapple her clawing fingers away from his body. "_Ve are your betters in every single vay. You VILL be obedient, or I vill make you!"_

"_Get OFF me!"_ Hermione screamed, trying to roll away to reach the discarded wand. Krum grabbed the bottom of her shirt, and pulled her back, the fabric ripping, exposing her midriff.

Then a fist-sized rock came swinging into view, colliding with a crack into Hermione's head. She stopped struggling, and Krum dropped the rock he'd been holding in his other hand, gasps of exertion filling the now-quiet air. Blood seeped out of the wound on her head, and Ron now saw how she got such a nasty cut, his fury for Krum coming back anew.

She wasn't quite unconscious yet, however, for her eyes kept opening and closing and groans escaped her.

Krum adjusted his robes, went over to grab his forgotten wand, then came back and grabbed her boot, and dragged her closer, her boot coming off in the process. He tossed it on the ground beside her mother, and did the same to her other boot for good measure.

Then he drew closer, and grabbed a fistful of Hermione's hair, bringing her face closer to his. She was clearly struggling to stay conscious.

"_You vill pay for that," _Krum whispered. "_I vill make you burn in hell for your defiance. Or...better yet…"_

And then, with horror, Ron and both Hermiones saw his gaze turn to her parents, and Ron remembered far too late that Hermione had seen a huge burn mark on the ground when she woke up in the woods.

And her parents were nowhere to be found.

Krum raised his wand. "_Incendio!"_

And before their eyes, fire completely covered Hermione's parents.

Burning them alive.

It was a grief far more distressed than Harry had ever heard in his life. Hermione's screams and sobs wrent the air as they watched the horrible scene before them. Harry was too transfixed on the bodies in the fire of the orbed vision suspended in the air. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Even Ron's furious shouts couldn't be heard as he looked far too in shock to comprehend what was going on.

Viktor Krum killed Hermione's parents.

Right in front of her.

The petrifying scene before them wasn't over with, however.

Memory-Krum's vision turned back to memory-Hermione, who lay dazed and in shock underneath him, the fire reflecting in her eyes. Her body was on its side and stilled beneath his own, the fight completely gone out of her, his arm still holding both her arms tight to her chest.

Then the shock became too much, and she passed out.

Krum got up, and Harry could see through his eyes as he turned, away from the fire consuming the bodies and Hermione's boots, towards Dolohov, who was approaching once more.

"_We cannot get her past these wards," _Dolohov wheezed, clutching his ribs. Harry saw with satisfaction he looked quite pained. "_We'll have to try again later. If these wards aren't going to give, we will need to find another way. Portkey, Apparition, flying...none of them have worked. How are you going to try now?"_

"_I think I have a solution. The Dark Lord says the apparatus is almost up and running. Ve could just use it instead. It shouldn't take but a few more days and then it should be ready by Halloveen. Ve vere hoping to give her and Veasley—dead or alive—over to the Dark Lord before then, but it looks like ve vill just have to vait till Halloveen night. I vill just need to break into her dormitory to find the last information ve need, then it vill be ready," _Krum said, and they both looked down at the unconscious girl below them.

"_How does this change the plan?"_

"_It doesn't,"_ Krum answered. "_She vill go back to school like a good little girl...and not remember our hands in all this."_

"_And you?" _

"_I vill think of another vay to get her and Veasley out of the accursed Hogvarts vards. Dumbledore has guarded them vell. Diggle is already vearing my face in the hospital ving. I vill just need you to keep checking on him at night in your form. That old hag Pomfrey has not realized yet the potion she's been giving him every hour is of the Dark Arts. You must make sure she does not. Disguise the smell, mask the look, do vhatever you need. Understood? Oh, and Dolohov..." _

The fire was slowly burning out before them, leaving nothing but a small pile of ash in its place. Magical fire was quick to destroy. And quicker to anger.

"_Her-mione can now overthrow the Imperius," _Krum's cold words chilled Harry. "_You vill need to use your cursed blade, or she vill never be compliant. You know of vhat I speak. I gave it to you for a reason. _Use _it." _

He turned. But something caught their eyes—those in the memory and those out of it. Something silvery and bright…

Krum drew closer to it. It was a wedding ring, settled on the finger of Cordelia Granger as she died. The fire did not touch it. Krum picked it up with his wand, not keen on touching it, and the charred hand of the woman dissolved away into ash.

The wedding ring hanging on the end of his wand, Krum strolled back to Dolohov. "_Ve can't leave behind evidence," _he told the Death Eater. "_Make sure no traces remain."_

Dolohov eyed Hermione. "_And your little witch?"_

Krum's wand hovered over past-Hermione's form. Her split-open head still dripping blood onto the fallen leaves beneath her, her exposed arms, ripped shirt, torn jeans, and bare feet quite obvious in the growing cold.

But the sun was setting.

"_She von't remember a thing," _said Krum. "_You vill cut into her vith my father's old knife to make her more compliant. Use it...but do not kill her. Leave her. She vill be found out here and taken back to the castle. She vill mourn my supposed loss and vegetated state. She vill let her guard down. They all vill. And vhen the Dark Lord is ready, ve vill make sure they go right vhere they are supposed to. And ve vill not fail again."_

He walked closer to her. His wand was raised. "_OBLIVIATE!"_

The spell engulfed Hermione, and the grief-stricken look on her face dissolved into a look of peace. And then Krum cleared away the remains of the fire and the bulk of the mess, leaving behind only a burned fire ring in the grass and leaves, and a small pile of ash.

All that remained of David and Cordelia Granger.

A howl split the night, and both Death Eaters looked up to find a snarling werewolf and an angry half-kneazle running towards them. Both men put their wands up and went out to meet them.

The scene faded to black.

The memory had ended, leaving those outside—both hidden and unhidden—in stunned darkness.

* * *

Grief sunk its teeth into Hermione and clawed its way up her throat, constricting her movements. She couldn't see. She couldn't hear. She couldn't feel. Numb. Just…

Numb.

_Viktor killed my parents._

The words slammed into her conscious each time she repeated them, but they didn't seem to be hitting home.

_Viktor killed my parents._

She was too numb to register it.

_Viktor killed my parents._

Just…

_Viktor killed my parents._

Numb.


	47. The Red King

**THE RED KING**

**Author's Warning: BYOT**

Harry was too stupefied to act.

Just staring, unseeing, at the empty space of air the memory had taken up. Hermione and Ron were still chained to the pillars on the gazebo. Her quiet sobs echoed around them in the air, the frigid late autumn wind sloping down off the mountains blowing her hair and dress around her.

Ron was beside her, face ashen, as he just stared at her, completely at a loss.

Harry felt the same.

_Hermione's an orphan, _Harry realized. _Like me. Like Neville, who's as good as, considering. Like Draco Malfoy, even..._

It was a fate he wouldn't have wished on anyone, and anguish surrounded him. The implications of two of those statements stung him.

_Mine and Draco's parents share a deathday. If that isn't morbid enough, that deathday happens to be Halloween. And Hermione's parents...well, that would have happened last Saturday, on the 26th of October. She will need to hold funerals for them...although nothing would really be in the Grangers' caskets...since they were already cremated, really…_

_Merlin, where will Hermione live? Where could she go?_

And more important...would she still be able to come back to Hogwarts after all this was over?

He was jolted out of his morbid thoughts by the phoenix Patronus.

"_I am coming, Harry. Do not make any moves. Do not attack. Wait for my orders," _the phoenix whispered, then dissolved.

Harry uttered a swear word, looking around to make sure the Death Eaters patrolling the area had not seen or heard anything. They were nowhere to be found, however, and Harry prayed they hadn't discovered Ginny, Malfoy, or Meghan.

Meanwhile, Krum was moving around the gazebo again. He pulled a vial of deep maroon liquid out of his robes and poured it into the stones beneath him. Quizzically, Harry crept closer, seeing Draco Malfoy to his left doing the same, watching Krum's movements as well.

Whatever Krum was doing wasn't good. Harry had to stop him before he got too far with it. But indecision tore through him. He and Draco could both overtake Krum now. They could take him, then take on the Death Eaters as they came. But Harry knew they had to act now.

Should he save Ron and Hermione now before anything else bad happened? Or should he wait for Dumbledore?

_But who knows how long Dumbledore will be. It might be too late by then. Krum might try to kill them now. _

_What should I do?_

Krum didn't seem to notice as Harry crept behind him until he was a dozen feet away, still hidden in the Invisibility Cloak. Keeping his eyes peeled around them to try and spot Ginny and the now-hidden Malfoy, Harry raised his wand and waited...waited…

The sound of footsteps behind him.

"Dolohov?" asked Krum to the figure that approached.

Harry withdrew sharply as the Death Eater passed him, lowering his mask enough to reveal a smirking Antonin Dolohov.

And in his arms was a struggling, red-faced Neville.

_No!_

"He tried to escape, but I caught him. _And _the Hufflepuff Cup," said Dolohov in his deep, raspy voice. He held up the golden item in his hand, the brim of which was smeared with a bit of blood. "Now we got what we need."

Striding over to the stairs, he went to the opposite end of the dais that Ron and Hermione were on, sneering at them as he went.

_Of all the buggering sods… _

Harry was panicking.

Although Neville was struggling, his lips were clamped tight as Dolohov spelled magical chains around him and the pillar. Harry was feeling worse by the second.

On the other two pillars, Ron started hissing curses again, but Hermione was silent and no longer sobbing. She didn't even seem to notice Dolohov. She was staring in shock at the empty space in front of her where the vision spell used to reside. When Dolohov was done chaining up Neville, he poured the remnants of blood from the cup onto the ground just as Krum had done before him. It trickled into the circle's grooves.

"It's not going to be enough," Krum hissed. "Ve need Malfoy. You vere supposed to get him too. He needs to be the one to stand-in for Slytherin in order for this to vork. The Dark Lord vill not be pleased—"

"Going back into the castle again is a fool's mission," said Dolohov angrily. "I couldn't find the little bastard. He wasn't on the Map. Besides, it would be suicide now that Dumbledore is back. We already know which line Malfoy descends from. I say we just grab his dead mother and slice her open. Her blood magic will be powerful enough for this to—"

"NO!"

With a lurch, Harry realized Krum hadn't spoken.

Both Death Eaters swivelled around to see Draco Malfoy springing up the gazebo steps, wand firing spell after spell. "Don't you dare touch my mother!" he hissed, eyes glinting dangerously.

_Shite! Shite, shite, shite—_

Disobeying Dumbledore's orders, Harry sprang into action. Apparently Ginny and Meghan Freeman did as well because there were shouts of curses and jets of light soon flying all over the place. He sprinted over to Ron and crouched behind his pillar, the Cloak hiding his every movement.

"Ron, it's me," he whispered. "We're going to get you out of here! Hang on…"

His best mate breathed a sigh of relief. "Never thought I'd be happier for your scrawny arse to come and save the day. Just in time too. I heard Krum mutter something about the Git Lord…"

Harry severed the bindings with a spell and helped Ron stand straight. "We sent help to Dumbledore. He should be—"

Pain ripped through his stomach, and Harry was sent sprawling across stone, leaving a bloody trail as he went.

Ron stared after him, aghast, and Harry's hand came away dark red from where it had touched the side of his abdomen. His Cloak was still covering his body, though it looked as if the few drops of blood were coming out of thin air.

He got hit by a missed spell from Malfoy's and Dolohov's fight, he realized dazedly. Of course, that didn't make it any less painful.

_It's just a flesh wound. Just a flesh wound. Nothing serious. Nothing...Sirius...ha…_

His vision was swimming laps around his brain, but he saw Draco on the dais fall from Dolohov's spell cutting his cheek and hands. Neville was unchained once more and beside Malfoy, fighting with Junke now, both their movements quick and furious. Until Junke was blasted away. Meghan Freeman, meanwhile, was trying to take on both Savage and Harper, who had come running. She was actually handling herself pretty well, until a spell sent her tumbling down the steps. Harry barely even had time to think about Ginny before he saw her body fly away from them through the air from the force of Krum's Impediment.

Meanwhile, Ron was trying to undo Hermione's chains, but without his wand it was useless.

"Harry, quick!" Ron hissed. "I need your—"

But a hex—missed or aimed, there was no way to tell now— knocked him down.

The rumbling in Harry's ears grew louder and louder till it was more like a roar. Blood kept leaking out of his side. He laid his head on the ground thinking of arrow-playing doohickeys and if he'd ever be able to fly on one. But the roar wasn't letting up. And the light was blinding his eyes. And the wind…

Confused, Harry tried to sit up. The light was coming from the gazebo ground, all around it like a ring. And the stone circles beneath him, were they...they were..._moving_…?

Harry clawed the ground as the gazebo started groaning and spinning in place like a merry-go-round—everyone around him was doing the same, screams of horror, of pain, but even though it felt like they were moving, they weren't moving at all—the marbled pillars were bursting with light, the wind whipped around them like they were a tornado and the pressure was building and building in Harry's ears so bad they were starting to bleed—

—a scream was ripped from his throat but he couldn't hear it, and then—

It stopped.

* * *

Draco hardly had time to register what was going on when the fivefold circle began to glow. He stared in shock at first, but it quickly turned to horror as he realized what was happening.

It was a portal. The urgency of the situation tore through him, and he forced herself to speak.

"Granger! Weasley! Longbottom! _Potter!_ Get off the portal! _Quick!"_

But they didn't have a chance to comprehend what he was saying, and by the time they did it was too late.

The Scottish background around them, the forested pines, the Hogwarts castle behind them, the mountains reaching down to them, it all blurred and faded away.

They left behind Ginny Weasley, Meghan Freeman, even the Death Eaters and everyone else they knew, and fell into a hole in time and space.

In that brief second, the force of the pull was so great it felt like his organs were being ripped out of his body. His roar mingled with the others around him from the vacuum sucking them in, and the after-effects were so great that the portal had long since ceased before he chanced opening his eyes once more.

When the dust settled, Draco was no longer upright.

He was sprawled on the stone beside a bloody Weasley. He probably looked just as bad as him though. Raising a hand to wipe blood out of his eyes, Draco wondered what spell had been used on him to create so many small cuts.

Standing, he swayed a bit and looked around them.

Weasley and Longbottom were looking up from their collapsed, disheveled positions on the stone. Granger was still bound to the pillar, the portal's actions having disturbed her from her grief. She was staring in fear around them. And Potter—

He couldn't even see where Potter was. Draco's eyes darted around, trying to spot remnants of an invisible person.

Then he found it. The sole of a shoe barely envisaged right next to Weasley's. Glancing toward their captor, Draco allowed himself to be relieved that Potter had not been spotted by Krum yet. Perhaps they could come out of this unscathed.

But the relief was quietened when he looked around them for an escape in utter dismay.

They were definitely not at Hogwarts anymore.

Everywhere around them was barren in a low, thinning fog surrounding the island wilderness. They were on a cliff overlooking the sea, a stone staircase spiraling down the hill they were on to reach the other parts of the isle. The ruins of a massive, old abandoned fortress crumbled in the distance, taking up the majority of the landscape where there wasn't a dark, entangling forest. Wind whipped wildly around and the roar of waves crashing into the cliffs surrounding them almost drowned out the monstrous roars coming from much farther away.

Roars that deafened his eardrums and made him quake where he stood.

Only one sort of beast could make that horrifying sound.

He knew exactly where they were.

_The Isle of Drear._

* * *

Ginny stared, horror-struck and flabbergasted, as the dust settled revealing nothing but vacuity in its wake. They were gone. Ron, Hermione, Harry, Neville, Malfoy...even bloody Krum and that damned gazebo..._gone. _

One minute, Ginny was hurling through the air and landing in the hillside grass...the next second, she saw a glow surround the gazebo, encasing her friends, and then it was moving in place like a spinning top. And now...nothing. It simply blinked out of place.

She stumbled over to where she last saw Meghan Freeman, eyes not daring to tear away from the stone slabs, the only things left from the missing gazebo, bare as they stuck out of the demolished ground.

"W-w-what the hell happened?" Ginny gasped.

Meghan Freeman looked just as terrified as she did, which did nothing to unwrinkle her undergarments, let alone soothe her sorrows.

Damn the consequences, Ginny just wanted someone to give her some answers.

Looking around for the other Death Eaters, Ginny, stumbled over a body in the dark. Then retched when she saw the glassy, empty eyes of Harper.

He was dead.

Looking over to the other body, she saw Junke, blood matting his clothes, his legs completely missing. Dead too.

Killed by the force of the—the—_whatever the hell just happened_—both men had been standing right on the precipice of the perimeter of it. Junke had been utterly ripped in half.

And Dolohov…

Groans from her left alerted her to his position.

She strode over to the groaning Death Eater on the ground. A swift boot to the groin and three hexes later, Ginny stabbed her wand into Dolohov's throat and growled, "Where...is...my..._brother, _you death-eating bastard?"

The unnerving glint in his eyes said it first. "He's gone...to visit the...Dark Lord."

"_What?" _Meghan gasped behind her.

But the words of a murderer weren't good enough for Ginny. "WHERE?"

Blood trickled out of his mouth and he gargled in it before replying. His sickly grin rejuvenated, he said, "It...was a portal. They went...to the Isle of...Drear. But you'll never get there in time. They'll be dead any second now. The Dark Lord is waiting to kill them all..."

Ginny's scared eyes met Meghan's over the prone dark servant.

It was a move he'd been waiting for. In a slither of dark smoke, Dolohov vanished. All Ginny could hear was a rush of wind accompanying the swift form that blurred her vision as it gave an inhuman shriek, before the smoke dissipated and empty air greeted them once more. Whatever that thing was that came out of the smoke took off into the night sky, its wings beating silently.

They were alone in the night.

* * *

In the distance, gnarled trees towered into the sky above the white-grey mist surrounding them. But even through the thick fog, Draco Malfoy could see dark shapes appearing. At first, just a few. Then a dozen. Then several dozen. Coming closer, closer, their bodies materializing out of the mist and their robes, masks, and hoods striking fear into Draco's blood traitor heart.

Death Eaters.

Fear amassed. Draco's first instinct was to run. Run fast, and far. Just leave the Gryffindors to their fate and take care of himself. But he was on an island. Obviously, he wouldn't get far.

The indecision cost him. The Death Eaters surrounded them before Draco or the others could do anything about it.

And then the sea of dark servants parted, making way for someone behind them. All of them bowing down to—

The Dark Lord.

Draco Scorpius Malfoy was beyond petrified. He was a blood traitor now. But he was a Malfoy above all else, and did not show it.

His face was stoic as he stared at the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord stared back.

"Bow, my children," Lord Voldemort commanded, his voice a mere hiss.

Draco fought the urge to bow as he'd had to do countless times in the past. Beside him, the others refused to as well, except Granger whose head was forced down in compliance from the curse where she was still chained to her Neolithic stone. Krum, however, groveled with his face to the stone willingly, Draco noticed with disdain.

His and the Gryffindors' defiance, however, was laid to utter waste as a great force lashed across his back, forcing him down to his knees in a convoluted bow. Weasley and Longbottom cried out in pain as they were made to bow beside him. There was no noise from Potter, and Draco sincerely hoped the Dark Lord had no idea he was there.

"Much better," Voldemort said as he walked up the dais staircase to join them. "The Heirs of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff all bowing down to the Heir of Slytherin...just as it should be. Ah...and I see my special...volunteer...has come as well…"

"I aim only to please, milord," murmured Krum, bowing once more.

"Your humility is...ingratiating...but I am afraid the honor is all mine," said Voldemort with a sneer. "I am the one who brought him here..."

_He brought me…_

What?

Voldemort drew closer to Draco. A long-clawed finger stroked Draco's chin, making him shiver and forcing his head up.

He stared wrathfully into the eye slits of the man who murdered his parents. Who made his mother scream...his father beg…

"Young Draco...who has a sliver of Slytherin blood in him as well, incidentally. All Slytherins do as you well know. The Sorting Hat was spelled long ago to pick out the finest for Salazar's great house and weed out the rest. I can use this to my advantage yet for this special event I have planned…"

Voldemort's evil eyes wandered off him for a moment as they slid down to the barely concealed silver chain under Draco's shirt. All too late, Draco remembered what he wore.

"...and with the Locket of Slytherin, no less," Voldemort hissed, his eyes red with hunger and greed.

Fear hissed through Draco's body like steam. His second best-kept secret since summer was brought out to the forefront.

_Not the locket, please not the locket…_

Yet the Dark Lord's bony wand pulled out the chain with the locket attached and drew it from Draco's head.

The disappointment he felt was overwhelming. The _one thing_ Mother had entrusted to him to protect—

"_Keep this safe, Draco," _her words echoed around his mind. "_When the moment is right, use this as leverage to ensure a safehouse for us with Dumbledore. Do not let him have it until our future is secure! It is sorely wanted by the Order to defeat the Dark Lord. _Keep it safe!"

The Dark Lord's quiet voice broke into his memory. "Yes...I knew you currently possess it. Doesn't the Dark Lord know all things? I read your mother's mind before I killed her. In her memories, I watched her steal my most prized possession. I witnessed her placing the mannequin head carrying my prize into a silver box for you. I heard her whispered enchantments surround the locket in ceaseless fire. I saw her present the silver box to you before you boarded the train. _I used it to bring you to me tonight._"

The dangerous glint in the Dark Lord's eyes scared Draco. But he was a Malfoy yet, so the stoic look on his face betrayed nothing besides bred contempt.

"I reward those who reward me," Lord Voldemort said aloud, his voice carrying to the Death Eaters surrounding them. "And I _kill_ those who defy me."

Grief, profound grief, filled him at these words as the Death Eaters murmured their pleasure.

Then Voldemort focused on Draco once more. "Pity about your parents, young man. But they died well. Or...as well as could be expected from a traitor and his bitch—"

Draco's temper was much better controlled than Potter's was.

But not that much.

He spat in the face before him with a look of thinly-veiled venom. Death Eaters all around them hissed at the gesture. The expression on Voldemort's face was unreadable, but Draco found out just how much his act of defiance was appreciated when he was thrown backwards into the pillar behind him, his head cracking into it, chains twisting around him with all the savagery of snakes.

Groaning in pain, Draco realized that Voldemort was now doing the same to Longbottom, then Weasley back onto the pillar he had just vacated beside Granger.

The four of them hung on their posts, chains tightening against their chests and necks.

_What on earth is he even doing? _She-Weasel's words from mere minutes ago echoed in his mind. _What on earth is he even…_

And then he saw, from this new position on the stone pillar, what he had not seen before. The circles, the grooves, the aureoles...were blood-red from the blood that Krum and Dolohov spilled on them. Outlining the ancient rune that covered the portal.

His eyes met with Granger's, and the hundreds of classes they shared together in Ancient Runes lit up in their minds. Sitting not quite beside each other, learning the same runes and spellwork, reading the same textbooks, going over the exact same material every day…

And he knew what Voldemort had planned.

* * *

Hermione had never before known such fear.

Voldemort walked around the dais in his quiet, silky way, smiling at them all eerily. There was no way they'd be able to get out of this. They were going to die here. Yet through her fear and grief, one line stuck straight out at her. "_The Heirs of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff all bowing down to the Heir of Slytherin…"_

_That...isn't right. That..._couldn't _be right...could it?_

For her to be an Heir was impossible…

Wasn't it?

_But why does he want all the Heirs here? Why go through such lengths to bring us here and not Harry? How in heaven's name could we be more important than him, given the prophecy and all? What could he possibly get from killing us?_

Confused, Hermione caught the eyes of Draco Malfoy. His thoughts seemed to be mirroring her own, because they both reached a conclusion at the same time.

This was a ritual.

It all fell into place the moment Hermione realized that. The placement of the Four Heirs upon the fivefold circle. The Four Gifts that Krum held in his hands. The portal bringing them from Hogwarts to this strange isle.

Voldemort meant to sacrifice them.

Quickly drawing her eyes away from Draco's, Hermione looked once again on the repulsive man-creature circling them like an oversized vulture.

"Because of my endeavors, we now have the Four Heirs all present tonight...and the Four Gifts as well…"

Hermione sucked in a breath sharply as Viktor Krum presented to Voldemort the Hufflepuff chalice, the Gryffindor sword, and the Ravenclaw diadem. They joined the Slytherin locket as Voldemort held them aloft, and the Death Eaters hollered and stamped their feet in approval.

"Only portions of their bodies are needed for this to work, of course," Voldemort continued as he prowled. "I thought even bringing them to me Kissed and unable to struggle would be most efficient. But thanks to Lucius'...fallacies...this did not work out. Nevertheless...that may be for the better. More of this ritual has brought itself to light as I have uncovered more of Salazar's ancient writings. And now...here we are! On All Hallow's Eve at last!"

The roar around them was deafening.

With the other three boys securely bound and sure putting up a fight about it, Voldemort stood in the center of the disguised portal's dais in the middle of the fifth center circle, and started applauding.

His slow claps echoed around them eerily in the night.

"Strange, this," said Voldemort to his followers. "To have come so far in our endeavors...and here we are at last in the place where it all started over a thousand years ago. To the Isle of Drear. The birth place of magic. To return that which was stolen. Where everything that was taken from the Line of Kings shall be restored. With this sacrifice shall I be placed once more upon my rightful place. And...with nary a fight from our foe...

"Behold!" Voldemort walked around them in a slow circle, stopping by Ron. Hermione's heart clenched and she barely saw Harry's barely-concealed shoe disappear and a faint scuffle as he hastily backed away from Voldemort. "Ronald...Bilius...Weasley. The seventh son of a seventh son...and the true Heir of Gryffindor."

Hermione's brain was rummaging around this misinformation before she could stop it. Ron was the sixth son. Unless Molly Weasley had a stillborn or some other death, this couldn't possibly mean Ron. And what did he mean by Heir of Gryffindor…?

Hermione's color drained from her face as Voldemort touched Ron with the sword, the cold metal scraping his cheek and drawing blood. He struggled, but the chains were so tight around his whole torso that he hardly moved. She tried to cry out, to stop the wretched man from touching her best friend but Voldemort's presence was so thick around them that some invisible force lashed her tongue to her cheek, forbidding her from opening her mouth. Ron must have felt what she did, because his mouth was working furiously, trying to open. Only the slightest groan emanated from his closed lips.

"Dirty blood, this...yes…" Voldemort whispered. "It was clean once...untainted...but your beliefs, your values, they cling to your blood like a stench, stained and unwanted. I can see it...yes...the blood traitor you are drips from you now…"

Then with a swift strike, the blade pierced the stone grooves beneath Ron's feet, standing the sword up where it swayed slightly.

And Voldemort moved.

He drew closer to Hermione and she could feel his rancid breath as he placed the Ravenclaw diadem on her head.

"Hermione...Jean...Granger…" Voldemort hissed, far more unfavorably than before. "Our recent Mudblood-turned-Heir with the latent magic of the great Dagworth-Granger running through her veins from Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Heir of Ravenclaw."

Heir of...Ravenclaw?

Her brain spun at this. It couldn't be possible...it _couldn't _be possible…

For her to be Ravenclaw's chosen heir? For Ron to be Gryffindor's?

And yet, everything made perfect sense. Voldemort being after her and Ron since before the start of term. Him placing Dolohov and Viktor at the castle. Trying so many times to collect Hermione and Ron…the curse she was under…

As if reading her mind—_he was, wasn't he, _she realized with horror as his red eyes pierced hers—Voldemort's next sentence continued in the vein of her curse. His nasty eyes glanced down at her V-shaped scar, barely noticable from the front of her bodice going down so low.

And then she realized what he was thinking.

"A 'V' already marked upon your skin…" he said, then sneered in her face. "Fitting."

V for Voldemort.

She shuddered at the inclination. To be marked in this way...like she was only an object...or a slave...to forever look down at her chest and be repulsed by what a Death Eater had done to her, giving her the mark of his Master...

Never before had she been this close to evil. There was no humanity left in Voldemort's eye slits as they stared at her with a fury so powerful that she half-expected to be turned into stone on the spot.

But he finally moved on, and Hermione could breathe a sigh of relief. Ron's worried eyes latched onto hers, and Hermione wondered if they would ever make it out of this alive.

It wasn't likely.

Next Voldemort walked over to Neville, the Hufflepuff goblet in hand, which he proceeded to place beside Neville's feet, reciting his name as he did so and his position as the Heir of Hufflepuff. His disgust for how Neville survived when his parents did not was quite imminent as he talked.

Then he finished his circle and moved back to Draco, who glared at Voldemort with a hate so strong Hermione could feel him almost radiating with its heat.

"Last, of course, is Draco Scorpius Malfoy...son of a fallen traitor and stand-in to the Heir of Slytherin Line. To be sacrificed in my stead. Rather...befitting...considering his family's sodden state. A chance for his line to redeem themselves with this humble sacrifice. _Secondary_ Heir of Slytherin."

He draped the Slytherin locket around Draco's head, but didn't miss the younger Heir's mouth furiously trying to swear at him.

Voldemort Silenced him with a wave that made Draco start choking and gagging, and walked back to the center.

"Four Heirs and their Four Gifts, and the blood spilt by each. And now that they are all here, I can begin the ritual," said Voldemort.

Hermione watched with horror as a sickly green light shot out of his wand and illuminated them in a circle. The portal was soon covered in this transparent dome. Incantations were muttered low under his breath as he performed the ritual. Hermione would have been fascinated were she not terrified of what would happen when they came to the end of it.

Several minutes passed with Voldemort walking around them, connecting each column to the dome. When the green layer turned a smoky shade of gray, four Death Eaters from the four different directions of the portal cast their wands upwards to the top of the dome and gray lights shot out of them. Their voices toned in time with their master's, and the sickening feeling in her stomach spread around her organs like a virus.

Something was pulling her.

Hermione bit her lip to restrain from screaming, but couldn't help the gutteral cry escaping her throat.

The others could feel it too. Ron was clenching his teeth, hunched over in pain. Draco, though he couldn't speak, had his normally stoic face twisted in agony, and Neville wasn't faring any better.

Then she felt a warm squeeze from somewhere...somewhere...but she was so out of it she didn't know where…

Harry?

"I'm getting help," came a whisper in her ear.

In the midst of the hurt, Hermione nodded gratefully. "Hurry...Harry..."

His hand left hers, but a lingering warmth remained.

* * *

This was killing Harry. Watching his best friends in so much pain.

He had no effing clue what Voldemort was doing, but he had to stop it. Different scenarios ran around his mind, each with a Very Bad Outcome. If only he knew how this portal started up in the first place. Or if they knew how to Disapparate…but obviously with the Anti-Disapparation wards up around this damnable hell, that wouldn't have worked anyway.

His Occlumency and Legilimency lessons popped up into his mind, and he felt a glimmer of hope. Dumbledore was probably hundreds of miles away, though...was Harry good enough to accomplish it?

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. Hermione's low, heart-wrenching cries broke into his consciousness, startling him out of it again. His fear mounting, Harry tried again to find that familiar phoenix scent in his mind, the warm blue glow with the lightning-white fizzing around the edges, picturing Dumbledore's eyes in his mind's eye—

**Harry?**

He felt more than heard the voice in his mind. Was this Dumbledore? It didn't feel like him...this was much softer, the white was more of a light cream color, and the phoenix looked much more like a kneazle than anything…

Not Dumbledore.

Hermione.

Amazed that she could feel him, and that he could actually hear her, he jumped at the communication.

**I'm getting help, **he told her.

Still unsure of whether this went through, he felt a great surge of relief when he heard her words back.

**Hurry...Harry...**

But they carried with them a sense of urgency, and he understood how urgent when he looked inside her mind some more and found…but..._this couldn't be right..._

Greatly disturbed, Harry reviled, jerking his mind out of her head.

_What the hell?_

He delved back into her mind and took more than just a cursory glance this time, needing to be thorough, needing to be sure…

But it was definite.

Horror slammed into him as he realized what Voldemort was doing. Harry felt like he was going to be sick. He cut his connection with her short before she could feel his horror at what he found.

Or rather..._didn't_ find.

* * *

There wasn't much in Hogwarts grounds that befuddled Albus Dumbledore. He knew every inch of his castle, and prided himself in knowing most of its quirks and glories, its layers and peels. There wasn't much that could still surprise him, after all this time, with his magic tied so intricately within Hogwarts' own.

Until now.

He walked around the former gazebo with its raised columns and dais torn completely out of the ground, leaving a crater in its wake. The air shriveled frigidly around him, but did nothing to the complex web of spells he was casting, putting the puzzle pieces around him.

The others talked in hushed and exclaimed tones around him as the young Miss Ginevra Weasley and Miss Meghan Freeman Black recanted yet again what they had witnessed.

The Inspectorate Charm shimmered violet in the moonlight as it zigzagged its way around the gazebo debris from the stones that crumbled without the support of the columns. The Tracking Charm likewise left millions of golden sparkles all around them as it showed him exactly what had happened in the Hogwarts Cemetery.

The fact that the dais had been a portal was completely obvious.

He had known this for over fifty years. Had studied the runes etched upon it, had even gone thus far in his journeying to obtain some of the relics himself when he and Gellert fancied themselves worthy and deserving enough years ago. That was no more than a passing obsession, but wiser wizards than himself had fallen prey to such a thing.

But never before had he dreamt that Tom Riddle would figure out this Merlinian puzzle before him that coincided with the portal. Or that a group of sixteen-year-old students would be the ones to fit the pieces together for Tom to think fit for the taking.

Sadly he was going to rue this day indeed.

The numerous enchantments surrounding the area crisscrossed their way through the darkness as they mapped out which person stood where and which spell was shot when. These were spells that only advanced Aurors and DMLE personnel knew of, but they were extremely useful in relaying how a crime scene happened. Far better than Muggle cameras, in any case, because it could depict information from all angles and the caster could view exactly how a spell was shot from which angle down to the millisecond it was shot at. It truly was magnificent.

He studied the Portalus Charm next, and to his surprise the midair lines for it glowed a dark red. This meant that a very old blood magic was used to start the portal up. And since these stones were cast and erected decades before the Founders had added to the castle, that must mean the blood magic used would have been—

"Merlin's beard," he said to himself. "So it is true…"

_Knock, knock._

**Sir?**

The voice of young Harry Potter accompanied the presence Albus felt in the forefront of his mind. He would have chuckled at the rather loud knocking Harry had projected to alert his presence, had it not been for the fear in the young wizard's voice.

**Harry! What is it? Where are you? What is happening?**

To his pleasure, Harry simply opened his mind up and allowed Albus entrance. He was able to search Harry's memories and watch from the younger wizard's point-of-view from the start of the portal opening up to transport them to the Isle of Drear, to the ritualistic wards surrounding the portal, and up until what Harry had glimpsed in Hermione Granger's mind.

Bile sprung up unbidden into Albus' throat.

There wasn't much that could still faze Albus...

But a bright, extremely powerful young witch being completely drained of her aura was one of them.

He only briefly allowed himself to feel the shock of what Harry had discovered in Miss Granger's mind. As horrifying as it was, in actuality, it was rather to be expected with this type of blood ritual.

The different scenarios ran through his mind as he figured out how best to help his young pupils out of their grave situation.

Relaying information to Harry as best he could, Albus then ensured that Harry could make it out of the blood ward dome and to the castle on the Isle of Drear to secure the last remaining item needed. He saw through Harry's mind to guide him to the guarded sepulchre, and told him what to do.

Albus closed the connection, leaving a miniscule opening for Harry to find his way back more easily. This done, he pulled himself back to the present and gathered the Auror and Order members around him together.

They had work to do, and not a moment to lose.

* * *

Never before had Ron felt such pain being torn from his body.

He thought the Cruciatus was bad, but even though that curse was like every single nerve ending his body was being fried, this...this feeling of a black hole in the pit of his gut, draining every ounce of strength and might that he had…

This was far worse.

And what was more, he could see it leaving his body. A reddish mist was being pulled from him and sucked towards Voldemort, standing in the middle of the circle. A blue-white mist was being pulled similarily from Hermione, a golden-yellow one from Neville, and a silvery green one from Draco.

It was their auras, he realized.

Voldemort was sucking them all dry.

And hearing Hermione scream beside him multiplied this pain by tenfold.

His head lolled from losing the force to hold it up. His arms hung loose, only being forced up by the pull of the chains surrounding him. He couldn't even muster the energy to look over at Neville and Malfoy and wherever Harry had gone off to. Feeling rather like a rag doll and hating every minute of it, Ron waited for this feeling to end.

For something to happen to stop it from happening.

For someone to come rescue them.

But it never came.

Hermione's screams ceased and died down to mere whimpers. Neville's groans of agony suddenly stopped, and Ron feared the worst. He couldn't care less about bloody Malfoy, but even the blond Slytherin was silent.

Voldemort's chanting seemed to reach its crescendo and he brought his wand down. The auras were no longer there, just wisps in the air, having been sucked in by Voldemort.

Ron's eyes drifted slowly towards Hermione. She was unconscious, head down, brown hair falling over her eyes. He loved her eyes. Wanted to brush that lock of hair out of her ashen face. Brown sugar. It reminded him...reminded...him...of brown sugar. Her hair. That's what it was. The...shade.

Her eyes made him think of chocolate that he could melt into. He did love chocolate...

Not that he was hungry...he was...he always was...but food wasn't his favorite. Hermione was his favorite. He loved her like he loved food.

He was in love with Hermione.

But it was too late.

Ron could feel his organs failing as his strength was depleted. His thoughts barely held their own, drifting off in his brain before they even began. He was so tired...if he just closed his eyes...he could be done with this…all this agony would just melt away…

Ron wanted to die.

Hermione looked like she was already dead. He wanted to be with her...to join her...if they were going to die today, he wanted it to be together.

But Voldemort was not finished yet.

His footsteps echoed inside the dome as he approached Malfoy.

"Blood...of the Slytherin Line...you shall be inherited…" said Voldemort.

With a slash of his wand, Malfoy's chest was sliced and blood began seeping out, stark red against his white shirt, seeping into the locket on his chest. It glowed brightly from the contact until Voldemort ripped it from Malfoy's body.

Malfoy's gasps for air filled the silence.

Neville was next.

"Soul...of the Hufflepuff Line...you shall be borrowed," Voldemort said.

Then his arm fell in an arc and a small white orb floated out of Neville's gasping mouth.

Death Eaters watched enthralled as it slowly made its way to the goblet sitting beneath his feet, settling therein and making the cup shine brightly. Neville's body sagged, an empty shell without the spirit. Voldemort picked up the cup holding Neville's soul.

Ron was going to throw up...this was wrong...this was _beyond wrong..._

Voldemort moved on to Hermione.

Ron struggled against his chains feebly.

_Not Hermione. Not my Hermione…_

But the chains didn't even make a rattle as his body refused to obey him. He furiously tried wandless magic, nonverbal magic, this stupid Heir of Gryffindor magic, hell even sword magic..._any _magic...but he couldn't even lift a finger, let alone open his mouth to shout hoarsely at Voldemort not to touch her.

"Magic...of the Ravenclaw Line...you shall be stolen…" Voldemort hissed.

His wand touched Hermione's forehead and he uttered one simple syllable before Hermione let out a gut-wrenching scream and her body started glowing brightly.

Ron couldn't watch anymore, she was so bright. Eyes were shielded from the glare as a great force burst out of her body not unlike a star exploding.

But as soon as it began, it ended, and the light left her. Once more she sagged against her bindings, no longer bright, like a shadow was permanently passed over her.

Ron saw it all in horror, and willed her to get up, to show to him that she was alive, _anything…_

She didn't move.

Voldemort gently picked up the still-brightly burning diadem from her still head, and gazed at her a moment longer.

Then he turned to Ron.

_Kill me. Kill me, please, kill me. If she hasn't died yet, you as good as killed her, and I want to be with her. I need to be with her...kill me...please...just kill me…_

Those evil snake eyes read his thoughts. Poison seeped into the forefront of his mind, and he realized too late that the venom was Voldemort's presence in his consciousness.

**Kill you? Yes...yes, that can be arranged…**

"Body…" Voldemort said aloud, "...of the Gryffindor Line...you shall be given…"

Ron didn't want this evil ugly Git Lord to be the last thing he saw before he died.

Tearing his eyes away, he looked at Hermione...to gaze at her one last time…

Her eyes fluttered open and for a single moment in time their eyes, their souls, their love for each other was locked into place, this connection between them silently declaring what they never had the courage to say to each other in life.

He had the courage now.

**I love you.**

The words echoed around his mind as they did in hers. It was spoken and felt by them both, a feeling so strong that it filled his head with a soft white light and shone brighter...and brighter…

...and brighter…

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

And then was gone.


	48. And the White Queen

**...AND THE WHITE QUEEN**

_Tap...tap, tap...tap._

In the quiescent darkness, the hospital wing was lit only by moonlight. The windows with their crisscrossing patterns rising in arches up the cathedral ceilings, the marbled pillars with their burgeoning grooves creating shadows stretching across the floors and walls, the white beds with their canopies and sheer gossamer curtains swaying in the slight breeze…

She saw it all, but registered none.

With a thumb in her mouth, she got out of the bed she'd been sharing with her big brother. He slept heavily, one arm around her, but she shimmied out of his grasp. Small, bare toes touched the floor. Then the balls of her feet lowered down until the arches, not yet formed in her adolescence, followed. Lastly, her heels settled on the cold stone.

Clutching the blanket tight in one chubby fist, she walked down the length of the room. Four feet of the faded Hufflepuff-patterned goldenrod fabric of her blankie followed her, disturbing the newly-settled dust.

She reached the window. With two small golden-colored pigtails on either side of her hair, she cocked her head and watched.

A large, winged owl flapped wildly outside it against the gale, tapping incessantly to be let in.

Blue eyes wide, she stared at it. The bird's wings scraped the window, feathers falling down, in its haste.

The blankie dropped to the floor. With short fingers, she reached up to open the window and undo its latch. But she was too small, and the window latch rattled as she tried to reach it.

Rattled, again, as she barely touched the bottom hook.

Rattled, again, as her tippy toes went up, up, up marginally higher.

Finger touched metal. The hook came out.

The window creaked open an inch—until it _banged_ open as the bird shot through with a shriek. She stumbled backwards as the large wings stretched out, taking room, talons outright and clawing.

It alighted on the floor, and stood still.

Curious, she grabbed her blankie, and crept forward.

"Birdy," she cooed. "Here, Birdy…"

The large owl folded its wings about its body and shifted. Shifted until it was almost as tall as she was. Until it actually was.

"Nice Birdy," she squealed, edging forward, fingers outstretched to pet it.

But bigger it grew still...until it was taller than her, and bigger, the black wings covering its front turning into a black cloak...and bigger still.

Until it turned into a he, looming over her and grinning with rotten teeth and wicked eyes…

She stared up at him.

Then she screamed, her small throat letting out the high-pitched sound as it rang throughout the silent ward.

There was a bustle of activity as patients woke up, as visitors ran in, as a grieving mother woke up startled. The plump, redheaded woman saw the bad man and sprang forward into action. She ran to pick up Hazel, shielding her from the very, _very_ bad man.

But nobody was as fast as the doggy.

It came charging in through the doors with a snarl as it leapt onto the bad man, tearing into him before pulling back, growling ferociously as he stood in front of Hazel, fur raised. Protecting her.

She clung to the woman holding her, staring in fear as the bad man tried to hurt the doggy. Again, and again, the dog whimpered in pain and leapt onto him to injure, but the bad man threw it off.

With a roar, the bad man cast a bad curse and made the doggy whine in pain, falling to the floor.

But the doors banged open again and she saw the stern-faced grandma was back.

The grandma shouted at the bad man with her wand and made him fall down. When he was no longer in front of her, Hazel ran to the doggy. The woman holding her ran with her too, and they helped the doggy stand up again.

"Poor doggy," Hazel said sadly, petting his face before promptly sticking her thumb back into her mouth.

The grandma looked at her over her spectacles.

Hazel looked right back at the grandma over her chubby curled hand and talked around her thumb. "That was a very naughty birdy," she said gravely. "He needs to go in time out."

"Yes," said the stern grandma, nodding. She walked over to the bad man who was lying on the floor. "Yes, Dolohov…you need a timeout indeed..."

* * *

Harry ran faster than he ever had in his life.

His orders from Dumbledore were very precise, and it didn't take long to break away from the portal and through the crowd of Death Eaters without anyone noticing him. The Invisibility Cloak was tucked tightly around him, shielding him from danger. His side was pounding in pain though, hurt still from the stray curse. But at least the bleeding stopped. Just long enough for him to save the others.

Because he was _going _to save them.

He reached the castle ruins. He found the sepulchre. He blasted it open. He took what was needed. Then he raced back to the others.

He ran, because he wasn't going to leave his best friends alone with that murderer any longer than he had to. He ran, because this mission was crucial, and they couldn't defeat Voldemort without it. He ran, because he knew he didn't have long.

Their lives depended on it.

Of a sudden, grief sliced into his heart from the opening he'd left for Hermione.

Shocked, Harry doubled over in pain, tears leaking out. The emotional agony was excruciating. The Invisibility Cloak slipped off him, but the pain was far too intense to put it back on. _What the hell…?_

At once he tried to get into her mind, but it was far too clouded—she wasn't thinking at all, her agony was too great—

Horror-struck, he stumbled upwards, Cloak still clenched in his fingers, and ran faster, praying he wasn't too late. He was almost to the portal and the mass of Death Eaters surrounding it when there was movement in the woods around him.

_Crack._

_Crack. Crack. Crack._

Harry jerked to a stop, startled. Cracks. _Dozens_ of cracking sounds.

Heart resolved for yet another battle after such a horrendous, sleepless night; wand drawn against the figures walking in the shadows of the trees; a curse rising in his throat, he came face to face with—

"_G-G-Ginny?"_

Relief engulfed him so strongly that Harry sagged and fell against the pine he'd just walked past.

"_Harry!"_ Ginny ran to him and held him tightly, supporting his weight.

The Order had arrived.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Percy, Fred, Moony, Sirius, Professor Snape, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, _Dumbledore_, dozens more Order members and Aurors...they all amassed around Harry and Ginny. And clutching each person tightly around their knees were…

House-elves.

Harry hardly had time to remark on the brilliance of using house-elves, who could surpass a wizard's Anti-Disapparation wards with ease. It wasn't like Voldemort would have thought to ward against the creatures, seeing as how inferior he believed them to be.

"H-how's George? How's—" Harry asked.

"They're in good hands," said Ginny resolutely. "Saving Ron is more important right now. Well…" she corrected with a wink, "Saving Ron, and raising hell."

"Harry Potter! Harry Potter sir!" said a squeaky voice amidst the roaring of the waves far below them. Dobby collided into Harry's shins, knocking his glasses askew.

"Harry Potter, sir! We have been coming to take you away!"

"But Dumbledore...the others…"

"They are only here to distract them," Ginny said. "Meghan, Luna, and I are here to take you back. We need to get the others—we need to find Ron and Hermione—"

But they weren't out of danger yet. An eerie alarm was sounding around the isle. Wards were alerting Voldemort to the intruder alert.

Death Eaters were coming.

The Order immediately withdrew their wands, creating an elf and human barrier against the demons that were coming to face them. Before they knew it, Death Eaters broke through the treeline. Hundreds of spells rained down on the Order, who threw their combined shields up and fired back spells of their own with rapid potency.

The battle was on.

* * *

Ginny could not even begin to describe how relieved she was, not just to find Harry, but that her mum even let her come on this rescue mission.

It was easy enough for Dumbledore to convince Mum, amazingly. His ministrations about how he believed Ginny was the Secondary Heir of Gryffindor and how they might need her to start up the portal again to get Ron, Harry, and Hermione back put even a bloody siren to shame.

Clinging to Harry's hand like it was a lifeline, she didn't dare let him out of her sight. The panic she felt when she found him by himself and not with her brother or best friend increased as they ran.

Spells flew around their heads. She and Harry slid under a boulder's crevice as war erupted around them.

Harry whipped the Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders, struggling to get Ginny underneath it as well. Pulling him away from the fight and towards the portal, Ginny had a hard time of it. Harry followed, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the fight. Neither of them could see Dobby anymore, who stopped a Death Eater from attacking them before he was lost from view.

Ginny saw Nott Sr. blast Andromeda Tonks into a thick forested mass of rocks, knocking her out cold. Lupin was taking on half a dozen Death Eaters at once in an effort to get to the snake, Nagini, like a man possessed. Kingsley narrowly missed three curses simultaneously, but the elderly Elphias Doge wasn't so lucky. He landed just feet from them, his arm completely torn off from his body, eyes wide and unblinking.

And in the middle of it all were Voldemort and Dumbledore, locked in an epic duel.

Mouth fallen open at the sight, Ginny was mesmerized by the lightning quick spells they threw at each other, the forceful shields on both sides blocking these spells from ever landing. The distraction was working, however. Dumbledore was leading the Dark Lord away from the portal, and she could see an opening that she and Harry could fit through the mass of trees around them—

They took it—until the explosion rocked them where they stood.

Harry gripped Ginny's arm as she stumbled and they stared in horror as a ginormous castle turret came careening down, crashing into the forest, sliing, crumbling, mere yards from their terrified faces.

The forest awoke.

Trees groaned and grumbled from all around them as the monsters that were being held at bay far across the Isle were unleashed from their warded prison. Black forms as tall as the pines surrounding them and as large around as several houses lassoed together crashed through the woods, felling branches and dead trunks as they ran.

Screams extravasated around her as the monsters came into view.

Quintapeds.

The sight of them made Ginny recoil in fear and disgust. They were considerably more colossal then any other beast she had ever before seen. Their mouths were so wide, their teeth so acuminous in shape, that one of these beasts seemed capable of taking down a dragon alone, nevermind the mutilation they could unleash as a pack.

And in the chaos, the Cloak slipped off Harry and Ginny again, and flapped its way down the cliff ledge.

Dismayed, Harry reached forth his wand-arm, Summoning it back into Ginny's waiting arms. But the damage was done. The Quintaped's eyes locked onto their own. And as they stared up in horror at it, the monstrosity glared down at her and let out a roar so high-pitched in its shriek that her eardrum burst.

"_Impedimenta!_" Ginny shouted. The spell, as powerful as it was, just rebounded. She ducked as it flew by them.

The monster advanced, shrieking as it came, and Ginny fired off every spell she could think of, Harry beside her, doing the same.

The gnashing mouth came closer, pinning them to the rocky base of the hill cliff, and Harry cast his shield in a last-ditch effort to save them. Ginny curled up into him with a shriek as the beast's mouth opened—

And then another scream—one so entirely defensive and outrageous in its tone that Ginny looked up in disbelief and awe.

A ginormous dragon hovered right above their heads, wings flapping with great gusto as Norberta the Dragon came to save them. And on her back—

"Grawp?" Harry breathed in astonishment.

"HAIRY!" Grawp shouted, seeing them. He climbed off Norberta's back, seeing the danger they were in, and ran forth to grab the leg nearest them.

With a roar, he pulled the Quintaped away. "BAD! BAD BEASTY!"

The Quintaped was not one to be one-upped by a giant, however. It shrieked in rage, mouth gnashing, and tore into Grawp's leg.

He cried in pain, voice echoing against the walls of the castle ruin.

Ginny immediately started going to him, but Harry pulled her back. Hearing Grawp, Norberta came to his aid. She took in a deep breath, chest glowing red like coals in a fire, and let out a bright orange stream of flames with a shriek.

The Quintaped was on fire.

It drew the attention of the other beasts and suddenly there were too many of them to count, all in danger of trampling Ginny and Harry in their quest to take down the dragon, hunger gleaming in their eyes.

Harry shielded Ginny from the stomping legs as best as he could, and they stumbled away from the monsters.

They weren't alone. Other large winged creatures came in the night.

Thestrals, with their skeletal bodies glowing in the setting moon, attacked one Quintaped that was terrorizing Ginny's family. Dad, Bill, and Percy couldn't do much against the monster alone besides run for cover.

"Harry!" Ginny shriek, terrified for them.

But his eyes were too busy taking in what was before them.

A high-pitched hissing sounded in her ear, and her head snapped to where he was pointing his wand to see Nagini slithering up the path to them, eyes gleaming.

Just as the horrid serpent was almost to them, however, golden feathers flashed in her vision.

It was Goldeneye.

The majestic griffin flew over the serpent, talons aimed at its eyes, gouging out one with his large beak.

A horrible hissing filled the vicinity as the snake writhed and slashed the air with its elongated coils. But with a quick grip of its talons and a sharp bite to its neck, Goldie put an end to Nagini.

The dead snake hung lifelessly in his mouth as he dug into the meat and settled down with his tasty morsel.

Hope rekindled in her heart, Ginny pulled Harry's arm and they skirted around the still, scaly corpse to get to the stone pathway that led up the cliff to her brother.

_We're coming, Ron._

* * *

The battle behind them, and still invisible to the world, Harry climbed with Ginny up the steep hill that led to the portal. The stone steps engraved into the rocky outcrops hid their footfalls in the windy Scottish air until they reached the top, which had been vacated from all Death Eaters and Dark Lords.

Before Harry saw it, he felt it.

The emotional agony emitting from Hermione was multiplied now by a thousand-fold. A grief stronger than he'd ever before felt tore into his mind from the opening he'd left. The shock and enormity of it made him stumble to the ground, Ginny sinking with him, just meters from the portal, now abandoned by Voldemort.

Her cries echoed in the night, above the roar of the crashing waves of the North Sea far below them.

Hermione was grieving.

Alarmed, Harry struggled to get up and stumbled the rest of the way. Up the empty stone staircase, whipping the Invisibility Cloak off where it fell uselessly to the ground, and looking around in horror.

His four friends were still lashed to the posts, and the boys were all deathly still. Harry's eyes immediately gravitated towards an extremely bloody Malfoy. The stark contrast of pale white against the red blood on Slytherin robes alarmed Harry.

Draco lost so much blood that Harry put his hand to the Slytherin's neck and could only feel a very faint pulse. He was still alive...but not for long…

Hurriedly, Harry severed Draco's binds and tended to the Slytherin once he was flat on the ground. He uttered the healing charm that Dumbledore had been teaching him to use, knowing it would come handy in battle.

"_Vulnera Sanentur…"_ He muttered, watching the miraculous effects of the spell take hold immediately. "_Vulnera Sanentur...Vulnera Sanentur…"_

Draco's breathing evened out, though he was still unconscious, as his body set about to replenish itself.

That done, Harry tore his eyes to where Ginny was tending to Neville and unbinding him, and saw with horror that Neville wasn't...he wasn't all there. His eyes were half-open and his head was lolling, like…

_Like Charlie after his soul had been sucked. _

Horrified, Harry backed away from the sight. He racked his brain, but already was resigned to the fact that he didn't know of any spells to help. He helped Ginny tear Neville's bindings off and lowered him gently to the ground.

_Blood from Draco….Neville's soul...and Hermione's magic..._

He whipped his head over to Ron and Hermione and fell their bindings with a swish of his wand.

Their bodies fell hard against the stone. That could have gone better...but better they have bruises than what befell Draco and Neville…

He rushed over to help Hermione, but she pushed him away and crawled over to Ron. The grief Harry could still feel in his head intensified like a scream that wouldn't end.

Ron was facedown and not moving.

"_No, no, no…_" Hermione whispered the word over and over, voice wet with tears, clutching the back of Ron's shirt. Rushing over, Harry tried to revive Ron.

It didn't work.

He tried more spells, going over his healing spellbook from Charms class, but nothing was working.

Harry reached over and, with extremely shaky hands, turned Ron over onto his back.

Ron's empty, glassy eyes stared unseeingly back at him.

The world dropped out from under Harry, and it slammed into him why the screaming in his head wouldn't stop.

_Ron is dead._

Harry sunk to the ground.

_Ron is dead._

Not breaking contact away from his friend's soulless eyes.

_Ron is dead._

Not able to see or think about anything else.

_Ron is dead._

Yet still not comprehending.

_Ron is dead._

The unbearable grief in his heart was multiplied by Hermione's wracking sobs.

_Ron is dead._

"_Ron_…" Harry's voice cracked, his heart breaking.

_Ron is dead._

Was it raining? His face was wet but he didn't know why…

_Ron is dead._

Movement to his side stirred him out of his thoughts. Ginny had given up on trying to revive Neville. Her back was to them, and when she turned around, Harry realized she did not know...

Ginny's face drained, eyes locked on her brother's when she saw Ron's eyes staring back at her.

"_R...Ron?" _she whispered, halting abruptly.

Ginny's high-pitched scream tore through the air.

Tears poured down his cheeks. He fisted Ron's shirt in his hands, willing him to be alive. Willing for this all to be just a cruel, sick joke.

But Ron wouldn't wake up.

_Ron is dead._

Vaguely, he was aware of people running to the portal.

Behind Ginny, the rest of the Weasleys were dashing up the portal's steps, bloody from their fight with the Quintapeds and Death Eaters, their eyes locked onto Ron's still form in the middle of the dais.

His eyes were still open and staring up at them.

And for the second time that night, an overwhelming cry of anguish came out of Mrs. Weasley as she saw her son slain.

"_No!"_ she shrieked, sobbing. "No, no no, NO!"

Mr. Weasley could not comfort her, however, as he and his sons stood and stared down at their youngest brother in shock.

They weren't alone.

Meghan and Luna sprinted up the steps and ran to Neville and Draco respectively. Meghan at once closed her hands over Neville's chest, closed her eyes, and fell into what looked like a trance. Luna repeated the spells that Harry himself had uttered to cease the flow of Draco's blood that had since started up again.

Harry couldn't even find it in himself to be relieved that they were being taken care of.

_Ron is dead._

Vaguely he was aware of the sky.

_Ron is dead._

The darkness was fading.

_Ron is dead._

Sunrise would come soon.

_Ron is dead._

And Ron would never see it.

When did he sit down? Days, weeks, months...it felt like years. He was in so much shock he couldn't tell time anymore. Forever ago he had collapsed next to his best friend in horror.

He thought vaguely that they should go before that sick bastard came back or sent one of his henchmen to come collect what they probably thought were useless bodies. He was terrified that Krum would finish the job and try to dispose of them. If that happened, Harry thought, he would give Hermione and Ginny the Cloak. Better they be saved than a soulless Neville, a dying Draco, or a…

Dead Ron.

And as for Harry...he just didn't care anymore.

Let Voldemort have him. Let Voldemort win.

_Ron is dead._

Harry didn't stand a chance without Ron anyway. _Nothing_ mattered without Ron. Life _wasn't worth living_ without his best friend by his side.

Out of the foggy depths of his anguish, Harry realized vaguely that Hermione was muttering feverishly, her hands pumping up and down on Ron's chest frantically. It took Harry a moment to realize she was doing the old Muggle healing trick. CRP? No...CPR...

She hovered over Ron, and started giving him mouth-to-mouth, ministering chest compressions with incredibly shaky arms.

"Magic. Soul. Blood. Body…" she whispered feverishly. "H-H-He stole my magic. He stole Neville's soul. He stole Draco's blood. That leaves Ron's body. His heart isn't beating. That means the blood flow to a part of his heart is slowed or stopped—"

"Hermione—" Harry tried, feeling defeated. She still had hope where there was none. "Hermione, you shouldn't…Hermione..._he's dead..._"

His voice still sounded feeble in his ears. He reached over and tried to get her to stop. It seemed...wrong, somehow...her doing that to their best friend's body…

"It's no use, Hermione...he's already dead…"

"_I can save him!"_ she cried.

Never ceasing from her frantic ministrations, she tilted Ron's head back and breathed into his mouth for the umpteenth time.

Tears streamed down her face. The grief in her voice broke his heart. "V-V-Voldemort used the killing curse on him," she sobbed. "The killing curse stops the heart. When the heart stops, it's called a-a-a sudden cardiac arrest. That's a-a-all it is. His h-heart just stopped beating, which stops the oxygen-rich blood from reaching his brain a-and other organs. A person can die from it in minutes if it is not treated right away. But I-I-I'm treating it. I'm treating it right away. I'm treating it. I'm restoring partial flow of oxygenated blood to his brain a-and his h-h-heart."

Harry crawled over, gently trying to take her arms away.

"Hermione," he whispered. "Ron is dead. He died from the killing curse. Nobody can survive that…"

"_You_ have!" she snapped. "If you can do it, so can Ron. I-i-it's not fair for you to li-i-ive if R-Ron can't!" Hermione's words ended in a sob.

Reeling, Harry's hand snatched away from hers as if he'd been burned. Her words rebounded over and over again in his brain.

"I'm not going to give up on him," she whispered, quiet voice filled with anguish. Still she never let up on those chest compressions. "I'll never give up on him, Harry. I-I-I love him. I can't let him go. I can't. I can't...and I _won't_."

But they didn't have much of a choice.

Hermione leaned down to breathe again into Ron's slack-jawed mouth. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the sensual act, but felt like he was intruding on an extremely private moment...like he had walked in on them kissing…

There was sobbing all around them as Ron's family watched on, confused about what was going on, wanting her to stop but not knowing what she was doing in the first place.

And still Hermione was trying to resuscitate him.

"Hermione…" Harry whispered again. Watching her do this to Ron's body was..._wrong_, somehow. But she was a witch possessed. "Hermione, you have to...you need to..._please_...his family needs to say goodbye to him…"

He tried to pull her off the body again, but she wasn't having it.

"_Don't!_ I can save him! I can save him, Harry, I know I can… _I can save him_…"

"Hermione, _no...Hermione..._he's gone...you have to let him go…"

"He can't be dead," she cried again. Her tears were falling onto Ron's chest, drenching his shirt, mingling with the blood from the nasty cut still on her head. "He can't be dead," she repeated, sobbing. "I can save him...you need to...you need to shock his heart, Harry…"

"Hermione," Harry whispered.

"_Shock his heart, Harry_!" She shrieked. "Shock his heart! You have to! You have to, _please_! I c-can't—I can't do it. V-V-Voldemort took my magic. _I don't have magic anymore! _Y-y-y-you have to shock his heart so he has a chance. Please, Harry..._please_…"

He watched her give Ron another breath, then raised his wand. "All right...I'll do it...m-move aside, Hermione."

She raised her hands off of Ron, and Harry sent a shocker spell.

Ron's body jerked...but that was all.

"No, no, _no,"_ Hermione gasped. She started compressions again. "It has to work..._it has to!_ Shock him again!"

Harry shakily looked up at Mr. Weasley, unsure on whether to follow her orders. Mr. Weasley just nodded at him sadly, and Harry sent a more powerful shocker this time.

Nothing.

"Hermione," Fred said softly to her. He grabbed her from behind, and she resisted. "Hermione, you're exhausted. Let me take over from here. I'll do it now."

Realizing that he just wanted to help, Hermione nodded feebly and he gave her to Harry. She gripped Harry tight, sobbing into his chest. Arms encircling her shivering body, Harry couldn't take this anymore. He held her tight to him in a way that one only could with such a best friend as she was to him. The white silk of her dress wasn't covering her skin nearly as much as it was at the beginning of the night, and there were so many rips and bloodstains covering it that Harry was surprised it hadn't just given up by now. But she still looked beautiful in her despair.

She was still his best friend.

They watched as Fred gave Ron mouth-to-mouth and pushed exactly the same way and at the same pace Hermione did.

At least Draco was now standing, holding tightly to Luna, and appeared to be better. He and Luna were now watching Ron's body with everyone else. Fred paused the compressions and Harry raised his wand, shocking Ron's body again—

"You're being far too kind, Potter," said Draco faintly, snatching Harry's wand. "You've simply got to hate him enough to do it right."

Without warning, Draco sent a bright bolt of electric charge shooting towards Ron.

There were cries of dismay as Ron's body lit up like he was being swallowed by lightning, his body shaking. Horror coveted Harry.

But then they all took a breath and saw something happen.

It seemed to defy everything they had ever before known to be possible.

Never before had Harry believed in God and miracles until this moment.

Ron sat straight up, eyes wide, gasping for breath.

Everybody gasped.

A wave of awe engulfed Harry.

Ron was alive.

Ron was..._alive..._

_Ron was alive!_

Wild-eyed, Ron stared at them all.

Wild-eyed, they stared right back at him.

"_Ron!"_

At once Harry collapsed on his knees beside his best friend to engulf him in a crushing hug.

But Hermione beat him to it.

"_Ron!_" she shrieked, and before anyone knew what was happening, her mouth was on his.

The shocked look on Ron's face was almost immediately replaced with love.

For a an endless moment, they just sat there, kissing.

Until finally Hermione pulled him into a hug, whispering into his shoulder, "I love you, Ron! I love you, I love you, I love you!"

Beside Harry, Ginny laughed through her tears. He grinned at her mirth, breathing in her hair and taking in her own scent. Everyone else was crying as well.

Ron's arms wrapped around Hermione, his beating heart no doubt pounding furiously against her, trying to make up for what was lost. "_Merlin,_ Hermione. Way to wake a bloke up! You know I love you too, right?"

Hermione nodded. Then she leaned back and lightly slapped him.

"You great prat!" she sobbed, though there were smiles amidst the tears. Everyone around them chuckled. "Don't ever die on me again. Promise?"

Ron grinned, still holding her. "Promise."

It was like two puzzle pieces coming together, Harry realized. Two halves of the world coming to each other to fit, because his entire world would be broken otherwise.

Ron was alive.

"You saved me..." Ron kept whispering into her hair. "_You saved me…"_

"No…" Hermione said, pulling back to look at him. "_I'm_ the one who was saved. Because I never could have lived without you."

They kissed again.

Harry reached over and took Ron's arm firmly, helping his best friend to stand, engulfing him in a hug. The rest of the Weasleys soon followed.

Relieved beyond measure that his best friend was back, that Ron was standing, talking, blinking…

Harry was more grateful than he ever remembered feeling in his life.

_Ron is alive!_

* * *

**A/N:**

The reviews I got, Merlin abroad. Oh ye of little faith...


	49. The Castle of Drear

**Author's Warning: **

**Be warned, there is another death, and there are mentions of abuse in this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: A few lines are taken from either the Deathly Hallows book or the Deathly Hallows movie. They are not mine. I believe you will know them when you see them. I just can't imagine a finale where Harry and Voldemort DON'T say those things to each other. **

**Also, before you start reading, I would highly suggest opening YouTube in a new tab and listening to the Angels and Demons soundtrack as you read! This soundtrack is my inspiration when writing action scenes and darker scenes such as these. Just g****o to You Tube and type in Angels and Demons soundtrack, uploaded by Basil2111 with no ads. Now, on with the story!**

**Enter the Demon...**

* * *

**THE CASTLE OF DREAR**

It was just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione let go of each other that they heard it.

**Harry Potter, **said the hissed whisper.

The worst migraine Harry had ever felt before slammed into him—piercing his head, slicing his eardrums—as Voldemort's voice cut thickly into his skull, reverberating around in his mind.

**You performed valiantly...but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilt is a terrible waste. **

The groans and cries and whimpers around him told Harry that everyone else was feeling it too.

**On this night you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor.**

Voldemort was performing Legilimency on everyone.

**Join me on the Stone Portal and confront your fate. If you decide to flee and hide, I shall kill every last man, woman, and child who tries to conceal you from me. **

The darkness plummeted around them as Voldemort's voice doused their joy at Ron's revival. Dread and terror alike resurfaced as they all turned to see the Dark Lord striding up the portal stairs.

Beside Harry, Ginny gasped, and Harry's worry for her went into overdrive. He grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and threw it over her, shoving her backwards where she would be safer.

But there was nothing he could do for Ron or Hermione.

Ron's knuckles turned white around Hermione's shoulders. Wands up, the Weasleys also stood tall and moved to protect the still bleeding Draco and the prone Neville, who still had a concentrating Meghan sitting on top of him, hands on his heart, eyes closed and screwed up tightly as if in a trance, forcibly ignoring everything going on around her.

A whine grew in Harry's ears at the thought of the bastard hurting everyone he knew and cared about.

_Ginny's safe. Ginny's safe. He can't see her. At least Ginny's safe._

"I see you are still hiding behind your friends. Pathetic. _Weak," _said Voldemort, stepping closer. "And after Ronald Weasley died for you...but what is this? Not dead after all?" His nostrils flared, a poisoned look crossing his face at Ron glaring at him. "No matter...I still possess the might of your ill-suited Gryffindor power. I care not how you survived. I can still kill you again if it suits me, _Ronald_."

Hermione stepped in front of Ron, staring spitefully at the hated man.

Voldemort simply laughed.

"And what do you think you could possibly do to me, my sweet? You have already helped me out immensely with your translations of Merlin's tomes and the Sorting Hat's Riddles. Such a gifted child...yet you have outworn your usefulness. You have no wand...no magic..._no parents_...you don't even have your own freewill. I could make you kill Harry Potter for me if I'd rather…make you stab yourself...make you murder your dear _Ron_..." Voldemort sneered venomously as Hermione drew in a sharp breath.

Fearful, Ron tried to pull Hermione back.

Seething, Harry stepped in front of the still-weak Ron and Hermione before Voldemort could do anything.

"Riddle. Your game is ended," Harry said in low tones as Voldemort approached. "Give up now before we change our minds. We might just grant you leniency."

Voldemort sneered. "And what power do you proclaim to have? I have everything. The upper hand in the battle below us. Strength in numbers. Superiority in the Dark Arts. The Founders' Gifts..._ah_...and let's not forget the power of Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor that I now hold. My foolish boy...what do you have?"

Harry felt Ron's and Hermione's hands on his back, giving him courage. "_Love._ And that is something damn well worth fighting for."

"Even with your beloved Headmaster finally fallen?" said Voldemort with a sick smile.

Horrified, Harry's eyes tore from his enemy's own and found a still form in white robes meters behind Voldemort's blackened ones, almost half off the cliff ledge.

Everyone around him gasped.

Sirius and Aletha started to go to him, Professor McGonagall was white with terror, a growl had started in Hagrid's voice...but Voldemort shot flames in Dumbledore's direction and erected a sickly green transparent shield around Dumbledore's still form, which slithered around him like a cage.

Nobody could touch Dumbledore now without the Dark Lord's permission.

"But I am merciful, Harry. You would all do well to remember that, after I have conquered Hogwarts. I will let you...and clever Hermione..and brave, death-defying Ronald...Dumbledore's star pupils...to go say your goodbyes. Now go, Harry Potter...say goodbye to him before he passes…and then come back before I kill everyone you love," Voldemort whispered.

Shocked, Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's steps echoed in the diminishing night. Dimly, he was aware of the roars and screams from the Death Eaters and Aurors' battle below them that could be heard through the rushing wind. The faces of those not fighting watched him with white horrification.

Dumbledore couldn't be dead.

They would surely all die.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione reached Dumbledore's still form. The green bubble swallowed them up as well, and Harry collapsed beside the Headmaster. Ron and Hermione fell to their knees on either side of Harry; Hermione's eyes threatening to overspill, and Ron looking very, _very _green.

The whine in Harry's ears reached its zenith, drowning out the sound of Voldemort's laughter. Not Dumbledore. Not Dumbledore. _Not Dumbledore._

**Harry…**

A weak voice permeated his thoughts, and relief flooded him so fast he felt dizzy.

Eyes closed, breathing hardly even evident, Dumbledore still looked dead.

**Harry...listen to me. He's wounded me...but all is not lost...**_**defeat him, Harry**_**...you can do it...if you get the Founders' Gifts…**

_**What? **_Harry asked, alarmed.

**The Founders' Gifts, Harry. The gifts...it's the only way…the only way...for you to beat him…**

_**I'll do anything, Professor! I'll do anything for you… **_Harry thought back.

**Not me, Harry. Do it for the wizarding world. Do it for everyone he's killed. Do it for your parents. Do it for you.**

Harry nodded. Then, realizing Dumbledore couldn't see him, Harry squeezed his hand.

**Now Hermione...I need you to reach into my pocket and take this Stone. You will need it to help Harry to defeat Riddle. Do not put it on! To do so would spell death for you, my dear girl. Be wise with it.**

_**Yes, Professor, **_Harry heard her think. Ron probably didn't hear her answer, as he didn't know Legilimency, but her assent was evident when she reached into the still Headmaster's robe, a black stone held tightly in her hand.

Professor Dumbledore's orders were not quite finished.

**And now, Ron, I must ask for you to disarm me. **

_**What? **_Ron thought, alarmed.

**Disarm me now, my boy! It is vital that Riddle does not know you have my wand, understood? Keep it far away from him. This task must belong to you, not Harry, for this very reason. **_**Do not let Riddle take it from you! **_**Keep it hidden...keep it safe. This wand will also be...the key...to Tom Riddle's ruin...**

Dumbledore's voice in his mind grew fainter, and Harry's worry increased.

Face white, Ron grabbed Harry's wand, keeping it close to his arm before Voldemort could see it, and whispered the disarming spell. Dumbledore's wand shot out from under his robe's sleeve and Ron caught it deftly before sliding it up his own sleeve, hiding it.

_**Don't worry, Professor,**_ Harry told him, muttering a few spells of his own to Dumbledore's body. _**We'll take care of you. We'll take care of everyone.**_

**I've always...loved you...Harry…like a son...**

Stunned, Harry blinked tears away. _**I love you too.**_

And then…

Nothing.

Silence filled their connection.

Not just silence.

Emptiness.

No aura.

No magic.

No spirit.

Nothing.

Numbly, Harry said, **He's gone.**

**Dumbledore's gone.**

There was a grieving silence at his words.

Harry was numb.

But time was of the essence.

**We can't grieve. We have to go back. Unless...**

Thoughts flew through his mind, but he had to concentrate on coming up with a plan…

**Ron**—**Hermione**—He thought aloud, finding their auras with his mind's eye. **Listen. I'm going to distract Voldemort. Draw him away. I need you to go find where Voldemort put those damn gifts! **

**The Founders' gifts?** Hermione thought to herself. Harry, however, could pick it up loud and clear. **I saw Viktor take them into the castle…**

**Good. Follow him. If we can find the gifts, we can beat him. We can kill Voldemort. We can finish this! Find where Krum took the gifts! **_**Now!**_

Ron whispered the Disillusionment—Notice-Me-Not—Befuddlement spell complex, and a now-confused Harry wondered why he was staring off into the night. Dumbledore's body was still beneath him, and the grief of what was happening overwhelmed him.

Standing, he faced Voldemort again, a tear falling down his stricken face.

"_You killed him!"_ he accused the Dark Lord, voice tight with anguish.

A cry filled the night.

It was joined by several. Then dozens. Countless members of the Order grieved Dumbledore's death.

Harry walked back up the stone steps slowly. "You will pay for this," he said, the emotional agony evident in his voice. Then he cast the first non-verbal spell of many against Voldemort, who brought his own wand up to match him.

"Let's finish this," Harry hissed. "Once and for all!"

* * *

Ron shielded Hermione from the barrage of spells and pulled her down the path. She kept resisting, not wanting to leave Harry alone with that madman. As reluctant as Ron was to do the same, they had a job to do. It was rather difficult to leave Harry, though, as every curse Voldemort uttered was the killing curse.

Ron briefly saw his family pulling Malfoy, Luna, Neville, and the others out of harm's way. The Order, meanwhile, was doing everything they could to take down the Death Eaters and their monsters. Battle raged around them, above them on the cliff and below them in the forest.

"Hermione, where are the Founders' gifts?" Ron asked, as they supported each other in their haste to leave the battle. He knew Harry asked her already, but as Ron didn't know Legilimency, he hadn't been privy to her answer.

"V-Viktor. I saw him take them. He went to the castle, Ron. The Castle of Drear."

They stumbled down the stairs. Ron noticed her shivering, and a chance for chivalry finally presented itself. Ron unbuttoned his black dress cloak, draping it around her shoulders amd fastening the button at the nape of her neck, and a grateful, pleased look flashed his way. He had on his white dress shirt underneath, so it wasn't like he was starkers.

But she wasn't shivering any more. And he liked that he did that.

Despite the more proper outwear, it was rough going for them. He saw with trepidation that Hermione still seemed to be having a worse time than he was. Her face was white, like every step brought her pain, so he cast a quick Cushioning charm on her bare feet as well, which seemed to help her.

Every single spell he had cast in the past few minutes came out so strong and powerful and easily. _Merlin abroad, I love this wand._

He gripped her tighter as she relayed to him what happened after Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on him. Hearing about Neville's soul being stolen made him want to hurl all over the steps, and even Malfoy being sliced like he had seemed so _very _wrong. He wouldn't have wished that on his greatest enemy—and perhaps Malfoy wasn't even that anymore.

And then Hermione got to the part where her magic had been completely drained.

Ron stopped abruptly near a cluster of trees, yanking her back harshly.

"Hermione—_wait_—you said he stole your _magic?_" he repeated in dread. "Hermione, you could _die_! Nobody can live without their magic. You should sit down and rest—we have to get it back—you're using up all your strength—"

"_No!"_ Hermione said. "Ron, Harry's going to die up there if we don't get those gifts! That's the most important thing right now—!"

"No, YOU'RE the most important thing!" Ron shouted.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, and he found his opening.

He pulled her in and covered his mouth on hers in a kiss, her body flush against his. Before he knew it, they were outright snogging as the gravity of the situation fully hit them. She could die. Harry could die. Ron _did _die. Everyone around them could die at any second. He couldn't put off his love for her any more.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally broke away, looking up at him with forlorn eyes.

"You mean more to me than any of that," Ron whispered huskily. "I can't lose you. _I won't._"

"I'm not going anywhere, Ron," she breathed. "So let's find those gifts and finish this war...and then we can finally be together."

He never felt such a love as strong as this. Not when he thought of his parents, not when he thought of his brothers, not when he thought of Ginny. Hermione was _everything_ to him. She was his future.

Nodding, he supported her as they skirted the shadows of battle.

Into the dreary castle ruins, where Hermione saw damn Krum go.

* * *

When Meghan's aura dove into Neville, three things happened.

The first thing that she noticed was how severed his magic had become. With no aura and no spirit, his magic was falling apart at the edges.

The second thing she noticed was how badly his body was reacting. His heart was beating racingly fast, he had a high fever as his system tried to correct the unknown problem as if it were an invading bacteria, and his organs kept seizing up as if the act of working without his soul there petrified them.

The third thing she realized was that Neville was quickly dying.

Forcing her whining emotions down, Meghan mentally prepared herself for going to work. With her latent Slytherin magic from the brief time she was the Slytherin Heir, she was a master at working with the wild, uncontrolled flairs and had actually tamed it so much that far more accomplished wizards and witches than her would be suitably impressed.

She set about organizing her unruly magic, seeing exactly what jumble it was in so she'd know exactly where to pluck what she needed from. Normal witches with normal magic made their magic line up in a straight line so they could harness it better and let it flow out evenly through to the end of their wands. But such strict control didn't work for wild magic.

Meghan quickly found this out.

It helped that she had been a child still when she first got it, so hadn't been trained in the art of controlling and managing an instrument to let it out. She had been stubborn and wild and emotional and this helped her realize that wild magic couldn't be controlled, contained, or compromised. She had to use it on its own terms or none at all. So instead of lining it up straight to exit out her wand like normal magic, she learned how to deal with the jumble and act crazy and wild enough that her wild magic wanted to allow her to let it out to play. She learned how to let every single one of her fingers act as wands to give the wild magic ten different ways to come out of her. Giving it a wider, more open mouth to channel out of instead of the tight, narrow opening that a mere wand provided.

It was with these many channels now that Meghan was able to fully delve into Neville's mind, his magic, and the lingering remnants of his disappeared aura. Surveying the damage before her, Meghan was able to put a plan in place. Assessing the needs and how to fix the problems that faced her, she quickly realized that if she did not succeed, Neville would die.

She could not fail.

With a plan to restore his spirit in place, Meghan pulled up her big girl pants, and got to work.

* * *

The enormity of the ceiling height and walls around them awed the two students. Corridors stretched out in every which way from the entrance hall, innumerable stairs stretching far above their heads to other floors, and several going down into the dungeons. Dark, almost black, stones made up the castle, with eerily green flames coming out of the wall sconces, casting sick shadows after them. There was nothing of Hogwarts' warmth and kindness.

This was more like a School for the Damned.

They searched the ground floor to no avail. Rooms upon empty rooms defeated the searchers, who knew that time was of the essence. A door leading down below ground was warded beyond measure and after several minutes of trying to get through yielded nothing, they approached the large staircase to the next level.

Hermione's breathing was ragged and hoarse, her lips turning whiter with every step of exertion. As much as Ron didn't want to leave her on her own, though, he saw no choice.

"Hermione—look, I'm going to leave you here and go search some more, all right—?"

"No, Ron, I can...I can...do it…"

"No, you can't," said Ron firmly. "You can't even lift up your head anymore. You're too weak. Voldemort took my body, but I have it back now. I'm just fine. But _you_ only have your body and your soul. You lectured me on the Triquetra Effect enough times for me to know that you are _dying. _Besides, you're slowing me down. I can find them faster if I run and as soon as I do, we're giving you back the power of Ravenclaw, all right? That should bring you back, good as new. Now just...just rest here…"

He opened the grandest door in the entrance hall and pulled her into an enormously dark, empty room, void of any furniture except the decaying rug on the stone floor. Vaulted ceilings and boarded up windows shadowed the darkness around them in this great hall.

Not like he cared one wit. So long as the bastard wasn't anywhere near this room, he was fine.

Conjuring up a tiny, crimson pillow to put beneath her head, Ron laid her down onto it, wishing he had enough time to transfigure a weapon or something for her.

"Hermione—take it easy—rest here and I'll go find him all right? Him and those damn gifts. I'll be right back—you're going to be all right—"

It was a mark of how exhausted she was that Hermione didn't argue. She closed her eyes and settled her head back against his pillow. He draped his black cloak over her legs and arms so she was covered.

"Thank...you…" she whispered, eyes fluttering closed again.

Tormented with the idea of leaving her there without protection, Ron took off.

He was going to be right back.

* * *

Remus Lupin was a wizard great at many things.

Forgiveness was not one of them.

With rage, he attacked Fenrir Greyback, shooting curse after curse his way. The spells were easily blocked, however, as Greyback was fully under the Wolflord Potion. The werewolf's tough exterior and impenetrable aura prevented the spells from hurting him, much to Remus' fury.

_I can't do this. I'd have to turn into a damn monster to try—_

He leapt to the side as the half-wolf, half-man Greyback lunged.

"Need a little hand?" said a feminine voice to his right.

Remus looked, and did a double-take.

"_Hestia!"_

Like a beautiful vision rising up from the depths of despair, Hestia Jones, current Professor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts, gave Remus a hand and helped him up off the ground. She threw a detonator at Greyback, and the explosion rocked him, buying them some time.

"In the flesh," she said with a smile. "I thought it was high-time I stop laying on my arse. What better way to make a comeback than in a battle?"

"But I—but you—" Remus stuttered.

"What I am now doesn't matter," Hestia Jones interrupted. "Same as you."

"I'm so...I'm _so _sorry…" Remus gasped out. The grief, the enormity of the situation, none of it compared to how he felt knowing she now had the werewolf curse. Her life would forever be changed. For the worse.

She gently took his chin. "I know. But don't be. I'm not. At least now, you've got me to keep you company every month. I'm just happy I'm alive."

Flashing him a cheeky grin that left him a little weak in the knees, Hestia leaned in and kissed him, sending him reeling.

"Now that's out of the way, I happened to bring us a little extra help. Figured we could use it tonight," she said, handing him a small vial. She held the matching one in her hand.

It was the Wolflord Potion.

He balked. "I-I-I couldn't—"

"You don't have a choice," Hestia said firmly. "You know what they say. If you can't beat them...join them. Bottom's up."

They both downed their potions.

Then waited.

Seconds later, no change.

Seconds still...no change.

Still more...no..._wait…_

Remus felt the power, the might, and extraordinary sensory enhancement just as he saw Greyback struggle to get up from the blast, shaking his wolf's mane, evil eyes turned towards them once more.

_Oh hell, yeah…_

* * *

Ron tore through the unfamiliar ruins, despair clawing at him. He tried the summoning spell, the calling charm, and numerous others that he'd read about. But each of the spells were blocked by some unknown power. He had to get the gifts. _Fast. _He had to get them so he could heal Hermione…

_How? _

_How do we heal her?_

_How the fuck do we just _give _her magic? _

The sickness of that statement, about what Voldemort had done to her...it was far worse than what he had done to Ron. Killing someone without torture was actually a quick way to go. Merciful, even. but...but..._stealing their magic? _In the name of pureblood wizardry and wanting to take back what was "rightfully a wizard's?" What kind of sick monster would _do_ that? For Ron's entire life, magic and wands and their importance had been drilled into him nonstop. _No _witch or wizard could live without their magic. Not just they didn't _want_ to live without it. They _couldn't. _It was like ripping someone's heart out. They were so dependent on their hearts that they would drop dead in seconds.

Hermione didn't have long. Her soul was tied into her magic, just like her body was.

She couldn't live without magic.

_That _was torture.

Torture before death.

Ron couldn't handle it anymore, and leaned over a knight's armor to hurl up his stomach's contents. Not that there was anything there except bile. He didn't even know when the last time was he ate. Fred and George's party?

_Merlin, that was ages ago…_

Now they were in hell.

* * *

Hermione kept swimming in and out of consciousness. She could tell she was fevering, and it scared her to wonder what else was happening to her. It's not like there was a book on the symptoms of someone being completely drained of their magic. It's not like this had ever really been done so successfully before…

A door opening and slow footsteps stirred her from her tired mind, and she looked over to see boots standing next to her.

Ron came back for her. How long was she out?

"Ron?" she croaked.

She looked up at the man kneeling over her, eyes widening.

_Viktor._

"You!" she snarled. At once, her hands lashed out, slapping him, scratching him, clawing him—

He didn't even bother to raise a hand against her.

"Stop," he hissed.

Hermione stopped.

She opened her mouth to scream for Ron, but a vile hand clamped down over it, swallowing the sound of her cries. Refusing to give up, she kept struggling.

"You think I vould allow you to scream right now to bring that bastard running?" he said darkly. "And here I thought you vere bright."

She felt her heart give out. Her worst nightmares about the Angorian Curse were coming to life.

"Finally ve can be alone...you and me…" Viktor hissed, a dark look in his eyes that frightened her beyond anything else. His fingers ghosted down her arms. "No Dolohov...no Veasley...no dead parents burning next to us…"

She whimpered in grief at the mention of her parents—at being here, alone, with their killer—but his vile hand refused the sound admittance.

He straddled her.

In her fear, Hermione struggled and squirmed, trying _anything _to get him off of her, wishing she had her wand. Wishing she had magic at all.

_The hell I need magic. I'm going to kill him with my bare hands._

She hit him, she punched him, she kicked him, trying to unseat him, trying to get his wand—but he was too big—too strong—and—

With his free hand, he caught her wrists deftly and squeezed them against the cold stones above her head, pinning them there.

"Get off me!" she cried. "_Get off me!"_

Tears streamed down her face. Viktor leaned down close and licked her cheek, savoring the salty tears on his tongue, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling.

"Do you know how long I have vaited to taste you? To touch you vhere no man has? To claim you as _mine?"_ he hissed, taunting her, and it made her skin crawl.

He moved his hand off her wrists and to her unsettlement she found she couldn't move her arms from where he'd placed them above her head, like they were stuck in place. His other hand moved off her mouth and she tried to scream, but nothing except hoarse cries came out.

"Please, Viktor.._.please,_ don't…" she whispered. "Please, I'll do anything..._Viktor..."_

But he ignored her sobs, and his hand moved under Ron's cloak. Under her dress. Touching her breasts, ghosting over her skin, moving to her belly, then down to her bottom, then around the front—

The door shuddered as something crashed against it, but didn't break.

"_Ron!" _she screamed, finding her voice could scream again. That order had been lifted. But Viktor backhanded her and her head cracked against the stone floor, hair skewing her vision. She blinked the darkness away as Viktor cast a few more wards against the door, which kept hammering as Ron threw himself against it repeatedly.

"_Hermione!" _Ron called out, despair and desperation in his voice. "_HERMIONE!"_

"RON!"

But this angered Viktor, who was trying to stop her thrashing around, and he uttered the one syllable which had been making her dreams a living hell.

"_Crucio!"_

Hermione screamed, her back arching up, as whiteness flashed across her vision like lightning, the electric pulses shooting up her nerves, rendering her incapable of anything except _pain._

* * *

"HERMIONE! _HERMIONE!"_

Ron slashed at the wards against the door, again, _again, _his fury and anger emanating from his wand. White-hot power coursed through him, and all he could feel was this stifling rage at the bastard inside. _Hurting her._

Her screams ripped through him, and he attacked the door with newfound earnest. But even with the ward-banishing complex he'd learned from watching Snape, the damnable door wasn't giving—

Ron gave a roar as the power inside of him suddenly burst out—

The door and wards exploded—

Spinters and fragments tore through him and around him. The shock and disbelief at how strong his wild magic had been lanced through him, and Ron stumbled through the room.

And then the dust settled, and Ron saw exactly what the Death Eater spy was doing to Hermione.

Ron saw red.

* * *

The pain wouldn't stop lashing through her—she couldn't stop screaming—Viktor's nasty fingers wouldn't stop touching her skin, even as his wand was relentlessly unleashing the Cruciatus on her—she felt him clawing his way through her skin—his fingers going _inside_ of her—

And then it stopped.

The Cruciatus Curse ended.

Viktor was thrown from her.

His disgusting hands left her body.

The spell holding her arms in place was broken, and she jerked them down, covering herself, pulling her dress down, and rolling over to throw up. But she couldn't stop sobbing. And she couldn't stop shaking.

Ron was wild-eyed, curses striking Viktor again and again, wickedly fast. She had never seen him duel like this before. No sound was uttered by either of them. Nonverbal casting was all either of them did.

But Viktor was holding his own. Every time Ron drove him back, the Death Eater lashed back with a vengeance.

Hermione watched, worried out of her mind for Ron. _I have to help him—_

But the barrage of curses being rained down on Ron were growing too much for him. He had been dead not even an hour before. She was surprised he even lasted this long. His face was whiter than his dress shirt. He stumbled, and Viktor jumped on this weakness—

With a slash, Viktor brought Ron to his knees, Dumbledore's wand soaring into Viktor's outstretched hand—

"_NO!" _Hermione screamed. "Viktor, _stop! _Please! _Please, don't hurt him! _I'll do anything! _Please!"_

Indecision tore through the Death Eater as he glared Ron down.

Then he faced her.

"That's right. You _vill _do anything…" he said, then barked at her. "Come to me."

"No!" Ron growled, still forced on his knees. Heartbreak and fury were both dead on his face. "Don't go to him, Hermione!"

Hermione, who'd already stood, stopped at this second command.

"Come...to..._me…" _Viktor snarled. The man she'd fallen in love with had fled far, far away, and Hermione glared hatefully at him as she walked closer.

"Hermione, STOP!" Ron shouted.

She stopped.

But Viktor had already won. He crossed the rest of the way, standing behind her, his fingers slipping his cursed knife into her own, not unlike the vision he'd shown her mere hours ago, when he tried to force her to kill her parents—

"_No!" _she shrieked, trying to move away from him, to slash him with the knife, to injure him worse than he'd ever hurt her—

Then came the command he'd given her once today already. The one that chilled her to the bone, that horrified her beyond recognition, the command that she would much rather commit on herself than on Ron.

"_Kill him."_

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Was this chapter too dark or intense? I'm really sorry if it was, but I really needed to get the point across of who exactly Krum is. Why he did what he did, and the lengths he is willing to go to for Voldemort and his own means. **

**This scene was very hard to write. It happened to me. But I'm not going to go into that. It is an important part to be told, but I used Hermione to write about my own experience. If there are any of you that need a listening ear and would like to PM me about your own experiences with something like this, I am good at offering either advice or just empathy. My point in putting this in was to share something that is extremely difficult to acknowledge. Perhaps this will help others to share their own pain and know they are not alone. That we are all in this together. That being said, this scene implicitly ties into the curse Viktor put on Hermione, which you will see the ramifications of in the next chapter. **

**I'm really sorry to end it there, but to be fair, this one and the next used to be one extremely long chapter, totalling over 10,000 words, and I was torn between taking out some scenes, like the ones above between Ron, Hermione, and Krum...or just adding another chapter or two to the story. So...SURPRISE! Happy birthday to you! Instead of 50 chapters, this story may well be closer to 52…**

**Also, I don't know if you've noticed, but I went back and changed Chapter 14's title (it used to be "The Very-Grand-and-Noble-Room") to "The Risks of Being Ron". The reason this chapter title was changed is because I added one extra scene that was LOADS of fun to write! I always wanted to write a Boathouse scene, and quickly realized I had run out of time to add one in. Another reason is because I noticed that poor Ron was the only one out of the Core Three without his name in a chapter title. So that's fixed. **

**This new scene is about Ron in the Boathouse when he runs into some trouble. I had this scene floating around in my head for some time, and decided...what the hell? This is fanfic, I can make it as action-packed as I want, plus it adds some depth and thrills where there were no action scenes for over 7 chapters. Once you read the scene, you will find out why I was able to just add it in with no lingering repercussions in the next chapter, other than the few instances I added in Hermione's POV afterward. **

**So let me know what you think! About this chapter and Ch. 14. I really, REALLY appreciate all of your reviews! Thank you especially to HufflepuffBlacks, Thor Son of Zeus, Books (glad I fooled you!), BrookGuitar (lol, I really didn't), Guest, Gja03, Icha, Rom (still more twists about the Heirs to come soon!), Abby-E-Potter (why, yes...yes, I did…), and many more! **

**Keep the reviews coming, please! I really am almost done, but the more reviews I get, the faster these chapters get written!**

**Cheers! **


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